


North Star

by eldureira



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, And a handful of other characters as cameos, Hostile Colleagues to Friends to Lovers, Leorio isn't a doctor in this one, M/M, Or Is he?, Probably will include some background Killugon, Product Manager! Kurapika, Slow Burn, Software Engineer! Leorio, Tech Startup AU, is that even a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldureira/pseuds/eldureira
Summary: A mouthy software engineer and a die-hard perfectionist product manager who seem like they have nothing in common. An exciting, fast-paced, and often chaotic world of a tech startup company. A new, high-stakes project where they have to work together and set aside their differences (and maybe even discover that they're not so different after all?).Are these all parts of a recipe for disaster, or for a once-in-a-lifetime love that maybe, just maybe, can shed some light on the self-destructive, self-denying paths they're both on and guide them safely home?Featuring a brilliant but snobbish intern and Leorio’s young cousin who everybody at the office knows despite not actually working there. Go figure.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight & Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 28
Kudos: 44





	1. Andromeda

**Author's Note:**

> A North Star Metric (NSM) is a specific metric that a company uses as a measure of focus and direction for their growth and the value they bring to their customers. 
> 
> Astrologically, the North Star, Polaris, is the brightest star of the Ursa Minor constellation, and is so important because the axis of Earth is pointed almost directly at it. It does not rise or set, but remains in very nearly the same spot above the northern horizon year-round while the other stars circle around it, causing it to always appear in a due northerly direction. Therefore, it can be used as a guide and is more accurate than any compass.
> 
> \---
> 
> Hey guys! So I've decided to try my hand on an AU situation, mostly born from delusional chats between me and my friend about how it would be like if our lovely characters ended up working in a tech startup company. This will basically be a romcom story with a dash of family drama starring Leopika and some background Killugon, set in a fictional country in our very Nen-less, very normal universe.
> 
> This will include several industry-specific terms (which I wrote in bold letters), so I’ve included a glossary at the ending notes.
> 
> I’ve planned this to have 10 chapters, but I guess that’s not set in stone. There’s a lot to look forward to, including a business trip (wink wink), so I hope you’ll stay tuned!

**Kurapika**

Most days, Kurapika woke up wanting to run away.

He never acted on the impulse, though. Mostly he’d just run _laps_ instead, round and round the apartment’s sinuous jogging track, welcoming the soft vise of exertion squeezing and unsqueezing his lungs under Jannea’s heavily-polluted sky, and enduring, even celebrating, the gripping burn in his calves. Those gasping moments when he pushed his body to the limits and back were the ones making him feel the most alive and present and _free_ ; not shackled by invisible chains forged from people’s expectations and endless to-do-lists and his own feelings of guilt and inadequacy. Those solitary, early-morning moments were a temporary break from the rigid life he set for himself, and were usually filled with daydreams of walking along some twisting cobblestoned streets of a small, picturesque town shrouded in historical air and classical music, breathing in the scent of scientific progression and freedom in the air. 

In those daydreams, he was always alone. Faceless strangers would smile at him out of politeness and not because they knew his background, his experiences, his social standing, or what he could bring to the table. And he would smile back, not because it was the right thing to do, not because he was afraid of what they would think about him if he didn’t, but simply because he wanted to. 

Kurapika took a sip out of his water bottle as he reached the lobby, feeling like he could kiss whoever was in charge of building management for blasting the AC at just the right temperature, providing a respite from the already-blaring 8 AM sunshine of Jannea. He sighed as he entered the elevator, thinking that it would probably be a cool autumn day _there_ , in the city of his reverie, with colorful leaves crunching under leather boots, a perfect contrast to this hot, sweltering September day of his equator-bordering hometown. _Oh well, daydream time’s over._ He shook his blonde bangs out of his eyes as he willed the charming-but-useless delusion to dissipate, conjuring in its place images of PowerPoint slides peppered with colorful graphs and **product roadmaps**. He’d managed to come up with a feature proposal over the weekend to bring to the **DocTalk** ’s User Health Committee Meeting today, as a solution for that Friday night’s harrowing ordeal. User cancellations had spiked three times the average value in just under an hour because of a glitch in the app’s algorithm, an algorithm _he_ was in charge with, causing a huge amount of complaints to flood Customer Support and even inciting a lot of angry rants on social media. The app had mistakenly shown occupied doctors as available, resulting in an increased waiting time and prompting those users to cancel the online consultation requests. It had been hell on earth, all frantic phone calls and international _Zoom_ meetings with his team _and_ the company higher-ups. _Way to go, Kurapika. You’ve only been_ **_PM_ ** _for less than a year and this is how you go about cementing your reputation?_

They had demanded him to come up with a solution that would stop these kinds of failures from happening again in the future. He’d worked tirelessly alone for two days, wracking his brain until he’d forgotten to eat breakfast _and_ lunch, and not even bothering to consult any of his engineers. Especially not the lead engineer. That stupid, overly tall man would have probably not answered him anyway. He probably spent his weekends watching anime reruns, playing Steam games, and sleeping until noon. Kurapika rolled his eyes. _Not that I’d know. It was just a hypothesis._

He stole a glance at his Apple Watch, which, frankly, he only wore for tracking his workouts and not for the aesthetic. The display clock read _08:04 AM,_ which means he had exactly fifty six minutes to eat breakfast, shower, dress, commute, and arrive at the office at nine on the dot. Plenty of time. He pushed the apartment door open.

“Morning, Pika! Good run?”

Pairo was sitting at the breakfast bar, slurping spoonfuls of blueberry-topped overnight oats from a mason jar. He was still wearing his maroon-and-yellow flannel pajamas, his hair sticking up in odd places, clearly having just rolled out of bed. “This is really good, by the way. Thanks for making this,” he said, gesturing to his half-empty jar. “I’ve taken out yours from the fridge too, if you want to eat now.”

Kurapika joined him, hopping on a stool. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Pairo.” He was reaching across the marble counter for his breakfast when suddenly the phone in his pocket rang. He glanced at his watch and immediately gave a brief sigh. Still, he pressed the flashing green button to answer.

“Hello, Mom.”

“Hi, baby! How are you doing today?”

“Fine. Can I help you with something, Mom?”

“So brusque, my young executive.” His mother made a low, controlled sound, a polite laugh without mirth. “I know I usually call you on the weekends, but I thought I’d make an exception today. It’s the day of your big meeting, isn’t it? With the committee something.”

Kurapika rolled his eyes. He knew telling his mother about the Friday night disaster had been a mistake that he would regret later, but she’d been really persistent for a reason why he hadn’t been able to come to the phone then. And Kurapika never made it a habit to lie. Besides, he supposed he’d been desperate for some good old motherly pick-me-up. “Yes, it is. Sorry I couldn’t talk much to you and Dad last weekend.”

“Oh, that’s okay, darling. You needed to work, since they are expecting a solution proposal by Monday. And you’ve come up with the perfect proposal, haven’t you?”

 _Perfect._ The word caressed his skin like a double-edged knife. “I think I have, yes.”

“Just like I know you would. You can do anything you set your mind to, you hear? You’ve always managed to surpass all of our expectations since you were still in your crib. You’re always my little, pretty, perfect boy. Always have, and always will. We all believe in you. Go dazzle them like only you can do, alright?”

His mother’s tone was so matter-of-fact, so stern and definite, making it sound like she truly believed it, and it made him want to believe it too. _How does she do it?_ Kurapika mused. _How does she make every praise sound like both a validation and a condemnation?_

He heard his mother’s words like they were the lyrics to his favorite song. They constantly lingered in the back of his mind, sometimes randomly playing on a loop as soon as he woke up in the morning, filling his head with memories of school trophies and gold medals, heavy books and research papers, international conferences and **hackathons** , his family’s proud faces and his peers’ envious ones. They resounded in the cacophony of his mind like a marionette’s waltz that kept him dancing to their tunes, an opera star’s aria which always heralded every conclusion of self he’d ever had. They were the one thing he’d always known, the one thing he’d let define himself. The one thing he’d always dreaded, and the one thing he’d never been able to believe.

“Alright, Mom, thanks. I gotta go get ready.” Kurapika closed his eyes, forcing down the lump in his throat. The prospect of that meeting was already nerve-wracking enough without his mother reminding himself yet again that he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. He tried to ignore the silent _or else_ behind each of her sentences. He knew what was at stake; the company’s North Star Metric, which was the minimum number of completed consultations in six months, would fail to be achieved, and that could mean bad news for its current and future investors. The company might be a fast-growing tech startup, with over a million doctor partners and close to 500,000 pharmacy ones operating in two Southeast Asian countries, but it still needed to build a stellar portfolio to maintain and accelerate that growth. Besides, the effect of so many important people’s disappointment on him was not something he _ever_ wanted to feel again. _Failure isn’t an option, Kurapika. This is not a house for losers, and you’ll do well to remember that._

“Okay, darling. Text me later how it went?”

“Sure.”

“Fantastic. Bye-bye for now, Kurapika. Tell Pairo I said hello.”

Kurapika felt like he could hear his mother’s perfectly manicured nails clacking against her phone’s screen as the connection went dead. Exhaling a heavy breath, he put his phone down on the counter with a clatter. He could feel Pairo watching him, realizing all too late that his roommate had heard the whole conversation from start to finish, since he’d used the speakerphone feature on his watch. He felt the urge to curse.

“My mother said hi,” said Kurapika, trying to sound nonchalant. He opened the jar lid of his breakfast, the sweet, milky smell of it calming him down a little.

“Mm-hmm. Tell her I said hi back,” replied Pairo. His eyes didn’t leave Kurapika’s face, the expression on them a mixture of understanding and just the tiniest bit of pity.

A few seconds passed before Kurapika couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, Pairo, out with it. Tell me again how I’m always a sucker for my mother’s praise even though we both know I never deserve any of it. Even though we both know she’s only doing it for her own pride, because if I fail in anything, anything at all, it will reflect badly on her and the rest of my family.”

“Pika, you always deserve it.” Pairo sighed with fond exasperation. “What you don’t deserve is _this_. This whole ‘always having to strive for perfection’ thing that you keep chasing at the cost of your health and sanity, when it’s not even something that you yourself want. You deserve to… I don’t know.” Pairo gestured excitedly with his hands as he searched for the right words to say. “You deserve to… You know, have fun. Choosing your own path. Seeing the world, like you’ve always wanted. Actually _trying_ to apply for that Invicta dream job, maybe?”

“It’s not that easy, Pairo,” answered Kurapika. “It’s not like I don’t want what my family wants. You remember the day my mother got called to school because I punched those seniors who were bullying you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so embarrassed. Even though she later punished me and gave me hell, what really got to me was that disappointed and embarrassed look on her face.” He gathered the now-empty jars, his and Pairo’s, and put them in the kitchen sink, along with the spoons. He turned on the tap. “My mom is a harsh, uptight person, who never backs down from anything or anyone, and she’s always so poised and polite with strangers. But that day, she was so ashamed of me she couldn’t look the headmaster in the eyes. And she didn’t even go to _mahjong_ game nights with the other school moms anymore after that, for like, three months, even though I knew that was one of the things she really looked forward to. She deprived herself of something she enjoyed, something that was important to her, because of me. Because I was bad. Because I brought her pain, and shame, and disrespect. It was my fault, and I don’t want anyone I love to have to go through that again,” he added, rubbing the jars with a lathered sponge. “She said I’d killed a little part of her that day. The part that lets her look someone in the eyes with pride and courage. And so, I promised myself I’d make up for it, for the rest of my life. I’ll give back that part of her, no matter what I have to do. And if being perfect in every single aspect of my life is what I have to do, then I’m doing it.”

Kurapika put the washed dishes on the drying rack. An image of Invicta’s logo of a rose tree came to his mind, nestled on the top right corner on the first page of nearly all his favorite science and technology journals. It was his ultimate dream to go work in that company, dedicating his talents to help people get access to electronic journals, measure research performances, and cultivate search engines for medical practitioners. The fact that the company was based in Zurich, approximately 11,000 kilometres away from Ilia and its capital city he called home, was also really tempting. In his mind, Invicta was the ever-present mirage of freedom, the forbidden tree of knowledge, the ultimate world of adventure in which his life could really, finally, begin.

But there was nothing real about a mirage. “So, Pairo, until I’ve made amends for disappointing my family, I’m not going anywhere. Invicta can wait.”

“Okay, Pika, if you say so.” Pairo just blinked at him, seemingly at peace with the understanding of just how stubborn Kurapika could be. Anyway, this was an issue they’ve discussed a hundred times already, ever since they were in high school. And Pairo had known him for an even longer time, since they were both five years old, so now he was practically an expert at knowing when he should or shouldn’t press the matter at hand further. 

Relieved at not having to talk about himself anymore, Kurapika changed the subject. “Alright, good talk. By the way, how’s your leg? Is it better now?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s normal, though. It’s only been a year since my soccer accident, and my doctor told me it’s common for a fracture to take several years to fully heal. But I’ll probably buy some ointment at the pharmacy later after work.” 

“Just use DocTalk so you don’t have to go to the pharmacy yourself,” Kurapika said absently, walking out of the kitchen. “Or better yet, take advantage of the free consultation offer. Who knows, the doctors there can probably recommend you something better.”

Pairo rolled his eyes. “I swear to God, Pika, you’re like a walking ad.”

Kurapika stopped in front of the bathroom door, his laugh echoing from the end of the corridor. “It’s just so you can try the algorithm my **pod** came up with. And then you can report back to me if you find any problems. It’s always good to get feedback from real users, you know.”

“Everything is about work with you, isn’t it?” Pairo chuckled. “Tell me, when’s the last time you went on a date?”

“Now, where did _that_ come from?” Kurapika bristled, annoyed. “I don’t even remember, honestly. Probably that guy from Astronomy, last year of college? Eh, anyway, it doesn’t matter.” He stepped into the bathroom, brandishing a fluffy, baby-blue towel he’d taken from the peg by the door.

“It doesn’t matter because no one is good enough for you anyway. Right?” Pairo taunted with a smile.

Kurapika turned back to face his roommate, blowing out an irritated breath. A few guys’ faces came to his mind, guys he’d dated in the past, guys he’d dumped or ghosted before even the third date. Not one of them had made a strong enough impression on him, other than being commonly pliant, always letting Kurapika plan out the dates and mostly agreeing to whatever he said. He’d dumped them all because he’d wanted a challenge. He’d wanted someone with ambition, and purpose, and a conviction strong enough not to just go with the flow and let him make their choices for them. He’d wanted an _equal._

He still did.

“Yep, Pairo, that’s right. They all bore me to death. Apparently, a cute guy with a backbone is too much to ask for.”

* * *

“I’m not convinced about this, Kurapika.”

Morel glared at Kurapika sharply, peering at him from the rim of his pince-nez. “While I do agree that this has the potential of a brilliant solution, at the end of the day, the results will mainly depend on the **goal programming** algorithm. It’s a great one, as far as algorithms go, especially for multi-objective optimization models, but its greatest weakness is that it can disregard low priority objectives. It’s always going to be a trade-off. And looking at our current company **OKR** s, doctor allocation fairness will be set at the lower rung of those objectives. If a lot of doctors are not getting as many consultation requests as they hope, their performance will be impacted, their monthly rewards will be impacted, and they’re bound to be dissatisfied with our app. We will lose them to our competitors. And if it gets worse, we might lose our users as well because our supply diminishes over time and it will get harder and harder to keep up with the demand. How do you propose to minimize this kind of potential impact, hmm?”

Kurapika’s heart sank, then started to beat even louder, discordant and off-beat. He’d seen this kind of reaction coming from the C-level guys, especially Morel Mackernasey, the new **COO** who had joined the company just two months ago, bringing with him a dazzling repertoire of past jobs at NASA and a handful of other Silicon Valley gigs. He was already notorious for being difficult and blunt, always looking for imminent holes in every solution or product proposal, making every meeting with him a dreaded challenge. This current situation was even worse, because Kurapika perfectly knew he didn’t really have anything solid to appease him (as well as others who shared his views) other than the fact that purely flawless algorithms, which could satisfy each and every one of all fed objectives without making at least one of them worse off than the others, didn’t exist yet. Or, at least, not one that was stable enough to be used in an **ML** model of this scale. He just hoped he could reassure these people that he planned to use techniques that _could,_ theoretically, prevent Morel’s predictions to be realized and push the model towards better, more unbiased solutions. And he would never stop working his ass off until he had shown everyone that those reassurances would _not_ turn out to be empty.

He scanned the glass-encased meeting room as he tried to come up with a strong but diplomatic answer. About twenty people were seated around a large, square table, each with their own laptop in front of them, the screen showing identical PowerPoint slides that Kurapika had shared. Some of them were nodding along to what Morel had said, some of them expressed subtle signs of disagreement in narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, and the rest of them were just listening with blank faces and feigned interest. He had a feeling this was the last resistance he was going to face today. He’d better give it his all, then. People like Morel could not be fought with a hot temper. Complete honesty, logical reasoning, and humble diplomacy seemed to be the way to go.

“Well, that is part of why I designed this system to be flexible,” Kurapika answered, trying to sound calm and composed. “The model configuration will be simple enough to modify, providing us with high flexibility to choose which business objectives we want to prioritize and which to trade-off, even which locations or market segments we want this system to apply in. From my team’s analysis, last Friday’s incident happened because our current algorithm has been having a hard time for a while in balancing multiple business objectives. It’s been prioritizing doctor’s acceptance rates and user’s customized preferences more and more, while deprioritizing faster waiting time. Coupled with the sudden backend issue in Platform, it failed to run some real-time features and our doctor allocation decisions suffered in return, matching our users with unavailable, but preferred, doctors. That’s why I wanted the new allocation system to include multiple doctor ranking models, with a fast feature store, which we can aggregate in a **microservice** using the goal programming algorithm, so it can be more robust and stable in satisfying multiple objectives. I’ve also talked to the **DS** Team about this, and they’re pretty confident that this microservice will make it easy for us to add new, different models or change the priorities in our current ones. And there are also techniques to reduce the lower objectives-related bias, like what you’re concerned about, which I fully plan to include in the model later. But I can’t give you much detail right now because I — “ he faltered for a second, sensing the eyes of each person in the room being trained on him— “because right now I don’t yet know enough about these techniques, and considering that this is my first ML project, I would have to talk to DS to find out more.” He caught Bisky’s cherry blossom eyes just then. They were both challenging and a hundred percent supportive as he watched her nod imperceptibly at him, as if urging him to go on, as if she was letting him know that it was okay not to know everything, that no matter what his current situation was, what mattered was what he did next to ensure his potential growth. Kurapika turned back to Morel, and added, “But thank you, Morel. Your concerns are valid, and I want to let you know that I’ve thought about it, and that I’ll work hard to ensure they don’t happen.”

“So, what you’re saying is this model of yours will have constant trade-offs, is that it?” said Morel, leaning back on his chair until it bounced. “Then what’s the point of such an elaborate model? The trade-offs will be endless, and we will never achieve an optimal solution. Furthermore, you said yourself that you don’t know enough about the techniques required. I think this model should be built by someone more experienced. Like Knov, probably.” He gestured with his head towards a black-haired guy in the corner, who was quietly wiping his glasses with a small cloth. “He’s the Senior Data Scientist. He’s the one who should take charge of this whole thing.”

Kurapika resisted the urge to flinch. Yes, Knov probably had more than ten years of experience before he came here, and he already sought his advice and would continue to do so, but this was something that he himself had to do, since he was in charge of the failed algorithm. This was something he alone had to fix. He knew he still lacked the knowledge and the experience. Sure, he was a Computer Science graduate with a minor in Business, which meant he more or less knew his way around tech systems, but the field of Data Science and Machine Learning, which was a whole other branch of science, had only been advancing these past couple of years and there were already so many new progress that he had to keep up with. He’d cursed himself so many times for not being smarter, for not being able to absorb new skills faster, and at the moment, he felt like he would gladly stake his own heart if he could just demonstrate to Morel that he was capable enough to take on this project. But he couldn’t, and that fact still remained, no matter how hard he wanted to wish otherwise.

He felt the telltale simmer of anger in the pit of his stomach, which slowly rose to his chest like smoke, and finally pooling behind his eyes, the burn of it feeling almost like the prelude of tears. _I’ll do anything to obtain that knowledge,_ he thought. _I’ll do anything to not feel this powerless, this underestimated._ He fiddled with his dangly, ruby-red earring in his right ear, mostly to keep his right hand occupied so he wouldn’t do things he’d regret, like throwing a chair on the meeting room’s white, pristine table surface. _I’ll do anything, but what can I do?_

“Purely optimal solutions only exist in theory, Morel.” Cheadle, the company CEO, interjected. An expert virologist and former doctor, the woman founded DocTalk five years ago along with her colleague Mizaistom, who now served as the **CTO**. The latter was also present at the meeting, sitting next to Cheadle, sipping milky coffee from a black-and-white mug shaped like a cow head. “I personally agree with Kurapika’s solution, provided we have enough support from Platform engineers to build the necessary tech foundations. And to address your last concern, I think Kurapika has demonstrated in the past that he’s capable of doing his own research and gaining the required knowledge. And he already said he’d work together with Knov, so I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t be in charge. DS and Platform have already had their hands full. This is as close as we’ll get to optimal conditions.”

“Fine, Cheadle, if you say so,” replied Morel, folding his beefy arms in front of his chest. His next words, when they came, rattled inside Kurapika’s head like a dagger that almost made him see red. “I just hope you’re right, and that we’re not putting one of our most important projects in the hands of an inexperienced child.”

“That’s enough, Morel,” Mizaistom chimed in. “I also agree with Cheadle. That real-time feature store idea is especially genius, Kurapika. And I really appreciate you putting together this impact estimation analysis.” He started scrolling on his laptop. “I see here that the improvements in waiting time and consultation cancellations look pretty significant. I really hope reality will match the estimation. I’ll be expecting you to update us with a prototype soon. Do you have any timeline in mind?”

“I do,” Kurapika replied, pressing the _return_ button on his MacBook Pro to show the next PowerPoint slide. “Here’s the temporary timeline. We’ll do our best to stick to this, so you can probably expect a prototype within the next ten weeks.”

“Alright, sounds good to me. Bisky, I’ll be counting on you to supervise your team’s progress,” Mizaistom said, turning to his right to address Bisky. “And Kurapika, do let me know if you need more engineering resources. I want you working closely with DS and Platform on this.” He snapped his laptop shut. To the other meeting attendees, he asked, “Do we have any more objections?” 

He caught the eye of every person in the room, all of the twenty or so people from various functions and levels, including the ones blinking at him from the little _Zoom_ squares dotting the large flat screen of the meeting room’s TV. When only silence greeted him, he turned to the CEO, his black, white-spotted bowler hat wobbling a little. “Cheadle, anything you’d like to add before we adjourn?”

“Yes, thank you, Mizai, just a bit. I just want to reiterate that this project takes priority, everyone. I’m sure we all know that **H2** ends in four months, and our NSM is still only 60% reached. We need 2.4 million more of completed consultations in order to achieve it by December. We need our users’ confidence in our app, and it largely depends on consultation allocations. Kurapika’s Caduceus Pod — great **product name** , by the way — will need everyone’s support for this new system.” Cheadle then stood up from her seat, fixing her round glasses as she did so, greenish bangs fluttering. “I think that concludes our meeting. Good work, everyone. Have a great day.”

The attendees filed out from the meeting room one by one, dispersing down the various seventh floor corridors. Kurapika walked briskly down one that would take him to the elevators. He didn’t have any more meetings for the next thirty minutes, so he decided to go back to his own desk four floors down. As he was just about to use his pinky finger to press the button embossed with the number 3 – since he was holding a coffee cup in one hand and his laptop in the other – someone else entered the elevator and pressed the same button first. Kurapika looked up, intending to thank the newcomer, but ended up having to stifle an annoyed groan instead.

“What, I didn’t even get a ‘thank you’?” The newcomer hummed, staring down at Kurapika with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He hoisted his laptop higher, holding it against his chest with its lid half-open, almost like he was reading a very thin, very metallic, very strange book. “I guess I’m not worth the attention of this year’s most important PM.”

“Nobody even said that.” Kurapika spoke in a short, clipped tone. He didn’t spare the other man even a glance. “Get your facts straight for once, _Chrollo._ ” He said the man’s name like he would rather spit it down the fiery depths of hell. The four walls surrounding the two of them suddenly felt very oppressive, charged with an anger that threatened to snap the already-fraying thread of Kurapika’s patience. He balled his fists, digging his fingernails into his palm. _Ignore him. He’s not worth it._

Chrollo just laughed, a soft, oily sound that sounded just as sincere as a Nigerian prince email scam. “Morel said it’s one of the company’s most important projects. You must be rejoicing inside, no?” 

The elevator stopped with a ding. Kurapika wasted no time getting out, already moving as soon as the doors started to open, eager to leave Chrollo behind. But apparently, he was not destined to be that lucky.

“Speaking about Morel,” Chrollo continued, walking close at Kurapika’s heels. “Not all he said about you sounds very flattering. Do you think he’s right, calling you inexperienced? I personally do think he is. Now, if we were talking about _me_ , then that’s a different story.”

“At least I actually _have_ some experience,” Kurapika answered him flatly, without looking back. “Can you even say that much about yourself? Or did all your ‘experience’ come from you taking credit of your pod members’ work?”

“I’m their PM, Kurapika, so of course the pod’s work becomes my work, too. We exchange abilities all the time, it’s no big deal.”

“You’re just their figurehead, and you’re fucking _proud_ of it it’s sickening.”

“Ooooh, so much disgust.” Chrollo’s laugh was low and mocking. “Yes, I _am_ their figurehead. I am not without my talents, and yet I know they’ll survive without me. But you know what? They stay with me anyway, because I keep their work and their prospects here safe, as long as they deliver me good results. It’s part teamwork, part office politics. It’s a give and take. Not that you’d know very much about it, I suppose.”

“What the _hell_ do you mean by that, you — “ 

“Pika! How did the meeting go?” Pairo bounded over to them from the opposite direction. They had already reached the office area where the Allocation Team’s desks were situated, and they stopped just a few meters from Kurapika’s desk. Before Kurapika could respond, however, Chrollo whispered in his ear, “Saved by the loyal sidekick, I guess? How very lucky. Isn’t that the very reason why you referred him to Hisoka?”

Kurapika heard ringing in his ears. _He did NOT just accuse me of nepotism, that useless, good-for-nothing jerk—_

“Pika?” Pairo already stood before him, eager brown eyes shining. He waved his hand in front of Kurapika’s face. “Did you hear my question?” 

“I — Yes. Yes, I heard.” Kurapika realized Chrollo had slinked away to his own desk, separated from his by two big, long tables, each one seating eight people, four on each side. _Coward. I’ll get him back next time._ “You came to my desk just to ask me that, Pairo? Why don’t you just **Slack** me?”

“It’s okay, really, I’m just passing by. I’m going to Meeting Room 9.” Pairo gestured vaguely to his left. “How did it go? Did they accept your solution?”

“Yeah. Yeah, they did. We’re starting the work today, and it takes the highest priority. I’m gonna have to brief my engineers on it later.” Kurapika glanced at his watch, a black-strapped Nomos’ Orion with a blue dial, a graduation day present from his parents. He remembered thinking that if he hadn’t graduated _summa cum laude,_ the present wouldn’t have been half as fancy. He let out a little sigh. _15 minutes left until the daily_ **_standup_ ** _meeting with his pod_. _Great._ He didn’t really look forward to briefing his engineers about this very important project which he didn’t yet fully understand and which was a completely new territory from their usual work, but he couldn’t avoid it either. Loathed as he was to admit it, he couldn’t build an entire ML system from scratch alone. He _needed_ his engineers.

He noticed Pairo silently watching him. “What is it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“You met some resistance, didn’t you? Come on, Pika, you don’t have to act like everything’s alright.” Pairo took the nearest empty chair and sat. “Sit. Spill.”

Kurapika rolled his eyes. Pairo knew him so well it was annoying sometimes. “Okay, fine.” 

He sat in his own chair before proceeding to tell Pairo everything that had occurred during the meeting. Morel’s uncivil objections, Cheadle and Mizai’s support, Chrollo’s taunts, and how he felt both angry at being underestimated and scared of not being able to live up to everyone’s expectations. “It’s one of the company’s most important projects, Pairo. And maybe — maybe Morel was right, I shouldn’t be in charge of something this big.”

“Nonsense!” Pairo exclaimed. “I know you, Pika. You never back down from any challenge. I’m sure you and your pod will build a good enough solution. Just remember not to work too hard, okay? Oh, shoot!” He glanced down at his phone screen, where a blinking calendar notification had appeared. “My meeting’s starting in two minutes. Talk to you later!”

Kurapika watched Pairo dash further and further away. “‘Good enough’ is never good enough, Pairo,” he muttered under his breath. 

He didn’t even have a whole minute to himself before a new voice came along behind him. It was seductive and sugary sweet but _wrong_ , somehow, the sort of voice children learned to avoid, the sort of honeyed words an evil spirit might use to lure travelers to their doom, where he would feast on them with teeth and claws and an ear-to-ear smile never slipping. Kurapika felt his skin crawl. He turned around quickly, almost jumping out of his chair, his fight-or-flight reflexes kicking in even though he didn’t really understand why. 

“Good morning, Kurapika ~ Goodness, you didn’t need to be so tense.“ The man in front of him chuckled lightly. He moved closer to Kurapika, his heeled boots clacking on the tiled floor. “I just came to remind you that your new intern is arriving today. He’s currently at **onboarding** , but he’ll be able to join you and your team at approximately 3 PM today. I gotta say, he’s rather… interesting.” He chuckled again, somehow making himself sound like nails on a chalkboard. “So young, with so much potential, you know?” He licked his lips slowly, seeming almost high with ecstasy. Kurapika tried very hard not to look horrified. This was hardly his first time seeing the HR Manager in person, but the effects this person had on him were always the same. Creepy, dangerous, unpredictable, untrustworthy. How someone like him had ended up in charge of recruiting and cultivating the company’s manpower was a mystery he was not sure he wanted to find the answer to.

“Right. Thank you, Hisoka. I’ll keep that in mind.” Kurapika’s tone was curt, an obvious dismissal. He sat back down, opening his laptop and keeping his eyes trained on the screen, hoping Hisoka would take the hint and leave.

“Oo-kay. See you later.” Hisoka waved his fingers, his pink nails long and perfectly manicured, the glint of them almost menacing despite the ridiculous color. Kurapika didn’t breathe normally until Hisoka’s shock of bright red hair disappeared from his periphery, bobbing wickedly like evil wraiths as he slithered away to whatever hole he’d crawled out of. _More like see you never._

His laptop clock showed 11:27 AM. Only three minutes left until daily standup, but one out of his three Jannea-based engineers hadn’t shown himself yet. His usual tacky briefcase was nowhere to be seen, as well. Frustrated, Kurapika let out a groan. Turning to face his other two engineers seated on his left, he asked them, “Has anyone seen Leorio?”

“No, I think he hasn’t come in yet,” The one sitting closest to him, Melody, answered with her soft voice, shrugging her chubby shoulders. “Maybe you should give him a call?”

“He’s usually here around eleven. Maybe traffic’s holding him up?” Basho piped up from Melody’s left, his eyes not leaving his dimmed laptop screen. He was smoothing his pompadour, using the screen as a mirror. “Why don’t we just push the meeting back by another five to ten minutes?”

“I really don’t want today’s standup to be late. I have an important thing to announce, and it might take longer than our usual meeting time. We’re building a new ML system.” Kurapika paced angrily. He finally snatched his phone off the table and dialed his lead engineer’s number. Putting the phone to his ear, he moved to the side of the room, near the windows, so as not to disturb his other coworkers.

He listened to the dial tone with budding impatience, tracing some patterns on the glass to distract himself. This side of the building had an unhindered view of the parking lot and front courtyard, still looking busy enough this time of day, with a few cars already queueing to get inside. Kurapika scanned the paved roads, the small stone fountain bubbling up in the center of them, the parked cars, and the shaded smoking area in the corner. He suddenly widened his eyes in equal parts disbelief and exasperation. There, in the smoking area, languidly leaning on a pillar, was Leorio, his lead engineer who, despite knowing perfectly well that his team’s daily standup was always at 11:30 _every single day,_ could still be seen at the moment catching some smoking sessions with his buddies at _11:29. Dear God._ Kurapika wanted to yell. 

He followed Leorio’s movement with his eyes. He was deep in conversation with Phinks and Feitan, two engineers from Chrollo’s pod, sometimes gesticulating wildly with his arms. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white shirt that looked like it hadn’t met an ironing board in months, or like it had been slept in for seven consecutive nights.

 _Ugh._ Kurapika wrinkled his nose at the view. How lazy, exactly, could this man be? It could have been crisp and starched with just a little effort. _Seriously, how is he able to look at himself in the mirror?_ Kurapika felt an itch in his fingers, the same one he always got whenever he looked at anything that wasn’t neat and orderly. This man actually had some good looks and a strong build, so he actually got at least _some_ potential to look respectable enough to catch people’s eyes. _But oh well, with his questionable work ethic, it’ll crumble all the same. One has to be insane to actually respect this man._

As that last thought faded from his mind, Kurapika suddenly noticed that Leorio was laughing at something his friends had said, a big, boisterous laugh from the looks of it, his brown eyes scrunching, face relaxing. Well, _that_ at least was a good enough look on him, Kurapika supposed, making him look younger by a few years, softer and brighter at the edges, taking some of his attention away from his sloppy demeanor. His dark hair almost looked bronze from this distance, lit up by the slanting sunlight, as he turned halfway around and bent his head down to light up another cigarette, Phinks holding the lighter. Kurapika could see his back muscles rippling under his shirt, and suddenly he didn’t really mind the sight of that crumpled fabric. _My God, he looks rather beau — distracting. This is distracting. A mere distraction to a tired mind is what this is._ Kurapika shook his head, disgusted with himself. What the hell was he thinking? Why was he watching Leorio from the third-floor window like a creep? Oh, right, because he was _furious_ with this man. Because there was less than one-minute left until their meeting was supposed to start and he really didn’t want to have to fill someone in afterwards because that someone had turned up late. Kurapika hated repeating himself and his engineers should have known that very well. Including Leorio. Especially Leorio. Many arguments have erupted in the past between them because of this very reason, courtesy of Leorio’s annoying habit of shooting explosive responses before Kurapika even finished speaking. Kurapika didn’t usually think of himself as having saint-level patience, but sometimes he wondered if he actually did, considering he’d survived almost nine months working with this impulsive, troublesome man who had a penchant for jumping to the wrong conclusions.

His call suddenly picked up with a faint click. 

“Yes, boss? I’m on my way.”

“On your way to what, exactly? To lighting up another cigarette?”

Kurapika watched Leorio startle so hard he dropped his just-lit cigarette. He then proceeded to look around in a flustered, almost panicked way, turning in random circles multiple times with his awkward, gangly, overly long legs. It would have been comical if Kurapika had been in a better mood. Leorio’s expressions were always so open and honest, his face a plain, untarnished mirror of every thought and feeling he had. Sometimes Kurapika even found that refreshing, and it led him to wonder about what kind of upbringing he had, what kind of extremely accepting environment that had encouraged him to be so unguarded. 

He heard Leorio stammer a flurried reply. “I — Wha — How do you — Are you _stalking_ me?”

“Of course not, you idiot, why in the world would I stalk you?” Kurapika pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a few deep breaths to keep his voice even and not embarrass himself by shouting and causing a commotion in the largely silent office floor. “I can see you from the _window_. Do you know what time it is now? Do you think you still have time to be smoking and gossiping right now?” 

He watched Leorio raise his wrist to look at his watch, and he was almost sure he could see him gulp, his eyes bulging like they wanted to escape their sockets, all the way from where he was standing. “Oh — _shit,_ I’m so sorry, Kurapika. I lost track of time. I’m – I’m going up now, okay? You guys can start first if you don’t mind. I’m gonna be there as soon as I can!!” The man started walking briskly in the direction of the office building, his briefcase swinging at his side, his phone still pressed to his ear. His thin-framed round glasses were slipping down his straight, slightly upturned nose.

Kurapika sighed. He felt like he’d aged five years since this morning and today wasn’t even half-finished. He’d had enough of pretending that everything was alright. Everything was definitely _not_ alright. The next two and a half months would be a hectic highway to hell for his pod, and it was high time everybody strapped their goddamn seatbelts if they didn’t want to crash and burn. He answered Leorio with just one word, infusing it with all his raging frustration and impatience.

“ _Run_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **GLOSSARY**
> 
> **North Star Metric (NSM)**
> 
> A specific metric that a company uses as a measure of focus and direction for their growth and the value they bring to their customers.  
>    
> **DocTalk**  
>    
> The tech startup company where Kurapika, Leorio, and their friends work at. It’s a mobile app offering integrated healthcare services, including: 24/7 immediate chats with certified doctors, pharmacy services, and hospital and clinic appointments.
> 
> **Product Roadmap**
> 
> A plan of action for how a product or solution will evolve over time. Outlines the vision, direction, priorities, and progress of the related product.
> 
> **PM**
> 
> Product Manager. The person who identifies the customer need and the larger business objectives that a product or feature will fulfill, articulates what success looks like for a product, and rallies a team to turn that vision into a reality. Defines the direction of the product through research, vision-setting, alignment, and prioritization.
> 
> **Hackathon**
> 
> A design sprint-like event; often, in which computer programmers and others involved in software development, including graphic designers, interface designers, project managers, domain experts, and others collaborate intensively on software projects.
> 
> **Pod**
> 
> Small, custom, agile teams, ranging from four to eight members, responsible for a single task, requirement, deliverable, or part of the backlog.
> 
> **Goal Programming**
> 
> A branch or method of multi-objective optimization, which is an area of multiple criteria decision making that is concerned with mathematical optimization problems involving more than one objective function to be optimized simultaneously.
> 
> **OKR**
> 
> Objectives and Key Results. A critical thinking framework and goal setting methodology that helps companies to align goals and ensure everyone is working collaboratively on goals that really matter.
> 
> **COO**
> 
> Chief Operating Officer
> 
> **ML**
> 
> Machine Learning. The study of computer algorithms that improve automatically through experience. Machine learning algorithms build a model based on sample data, known as "training data", in order to make predictions or decisions without being explicitly programmed to do so.
> 
> **Microservice**
> 
> A variant of the service-oriented tech architecture structural style – arranges an application as a collection of loosely coupled services.
> 
> **DS**
> 
> Data Science. A concept to unify statistics, data analysis and their related methods in order to understand and analyze actual phenomena with data. It uses techniques and theories drawn from many fields within the context of mathematics, statistics, computer science, domain knowledge and information science.
> 
> **CTO**
> 
> Chief Technology Officer
> 
> **H2**
> 
> A term of abbreviation used to signify the second half of the year (from July to December)
> 
> **Slack**
> 
> A messaging app meant for teams and workplaces.
> 
> **Standup**
> 
> A short meeting between a team that is not necessarily held on foot. The goal is to go over important tasks that have been finished, are in progress, or are about to be started.
> 
> **Onboarding**
> 
> An organizational socialization, meant to teach new employees the necessary knowledge, skills, and behaviors in order to become effective organizational members and insiders (kinda like a college orientation days). 
> 
> **Product Name**
> 
> In a tech company, a product / project usually had a name to make it easier for people to remember or refer to, and the team or pod who is in charge of it usually use that name as well to refer to themselves. 
> 
> We'll alternate POVs for the next chapters! Hope you all like this one and feel free to let me know what you think in the comments :)
> 
> You're welcome to reach me at my [twitter](https://twitter.com/eldureira?s=09) or [tumblr](https://eldureira.tumblr.com/).


	2. Perseus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument that turn out to be a turning point of sorts, which results in tiny, tiny beginnings of a spark between our protagonists.
> 
> Also, a new intern appears!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is finally here! I apologize for the long wait, so I hope the length makes up for it hahaha. 
> 
> For the new industry-specific terms written in bold letters here, you can find the GLOSSARY in the ending notes. I'm not going to re-include old terms in this one so feel free to click to the previous chapter's ending notes to refresh your memories, I hope that's okay 😉

**Leorio**

_Blood on his hands._

_A lab-issued test result on white paper, filled with charts and numbers._

_Tired eyes and missed interpretations._

_Blood, again. So much blood. Blood on his hands, on his clothes, on his glasses, on his eyelashes._

* * *

Leorio woke up to the sound of his shrill phone alarm for the fifth time in the last half an hour.

 _I used to be such a light sleeper. Where have those days gone?_ The thought crossed his mind unprompted, precariously hovering in that blurry space between sleep and consciousness. It was true, though. He used to be able to wake up at a single, low chirp of his phone’s notifications, or at a mere touch of a colleague’s hand, ready to jump back into the adrenaline-filled drill of a hospital’s emergency room, carefully weaving around people’s lives and deaths like the three Fates of days past. But those days were long gone now, and he was left a husk of his former vigor, spending his typical days during the last two and a half years in front of a corporate-issued fifteen-inch screen, fingers writing gibberish in the languages of machines and artificial brains. It was not a bad life, not in the least; it was comfortable and exciting in its own way, and it still somehow served his goal and purpose for living, but sometimes Leorio just couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t _enough._

It just wasn’t enough.

“Leorio, are you up? I’m going to campus now, okay? I left the coffee pot brewing.”

Gon, his roommate and younger cousin, stuck his head inside the half-open door of Leorio’s bedroom. He then bounded into the room, a pulsing ball of energy, smiling in that bright, innocent way of his. “Your alarm has gone off more than five times already. Rough night?”

Leorio groaned as he sat up in bed. He stole a glance at his phone screen and saw that he woke up almost thirty minutes later than usual. _Aw, shucks._ “No rougher than usual, kid. You ready to go already? Have you had breakfast?”

“Nope, I haven’t, but it’s fine. I’ll just have an early lunch later. I also woke up a little late this morning, so I only had time for a quick shower and some coffee.”

Leorio shook his head, sighing as he stood up. “No, Gon, that’s unacceptable. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You’re not getting out of here until you have some sustenance in you.”

“Aawww, but I’m running late!”

“So am I, in case you haven’t noticed. But you don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

“It’s because your office doesn’t have a fixed work hour, Leorio! You can come in at 2 PM and no one’s gonna bat an eye. Meanwhile my prof will probably kill me if I walk into lab thirty minutes late. And it’s only my third day of being his project assistant. And – ” 

“And your internship grade is on the line, too. I know, Gon. But you’ve still got thirty minutes to spare and you only need fifteen to reach campus. Just relax, would you? I can whip up breakfast in five, just you wait.” Leorio started walking with heavy legs out of his bedroom. “Come on, come with me.”

Gon pouted and stuck out his tongue, but he followed Leorio out anyway to their small kitchen. “My professor is really tough, you know. He wouldn’t tolerate any bullshit that could hinder his work, including tardiness.”

“Really, that skinny guy? Well, no wonder I always thought he had scary eyes,” Leorio replied as he rummaged in the fridge for some eggs, cheddar cheese, and black beans. He cracked open one egg inside a bowl and scrambled it quickly with a fork before putting the bowl inside the microwave. “But I thought you said you guys get along nicely?”

“We do. Professor Kite is kind, but still, he’s tough. Probably because he’s a genius. They say he published his first solo scientific journal at the age of twenty-four. Can you imagine?” Gon padded to the kitchen counter, where Leorio was buttering up some bread. “Here, let me do that. We’re gonna have these toasted, right?”

“Yes, thank you,” Leorio handed the bread knife to Gon and opened the beeping microwave. He sprinkled some grated cheese inside the bowl without taking it out, then closed the door again. He set the timer for another minute. “Solo scientific journal at twenty-four, you say? _Dios mio!_ At twenty-four all I did was work crazy shifts and study and go to clubs in hopes of bringing girls home.” He went back to the kitchen counter to rinse a few handfuls of black beans, then proceeded to mash them with the same fork he used for the eggs. “Don’t you follow my example, Gon,” he added.

Gon laughed as he put the toasted bread into a plate. “Don’t be modest, Leorio. I think you set a good enough example. Even Aunt Mito thinks so.”

“She can’t possibly mean that. Look at me now, just a lousy engineer trying to survive the law of corporate jungle.” Leorio took out the eggs-and-cheese ensemble from the microwave and started putting it between two toasted bread buns, along with some crushed black beans sprinkled with a little salt and pepper. He then put the makeshift burger on a plate and slid it to Gon. “Here you go, Gon, my signature five-minute breakfast sandwich. Eat.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

Leorio watched his cousin wolf down his breakfast with gusto as he fixed another sandwich for himself. It had been two years since Gon first came to live with him, ever since the kid got accepted into the University of Ilia’s Biology major, one of the most prominent higher-education institutions in the country. Leorio himself had just started his new routine working at DocTalk, a highly sought-after software engineering job that he’d never thought he’d get even after he passed stage after stage of recruitment. He’d never had a formal education in computer science, for one, only dabbling a bit in coding and tech online courses since his high-school days as a hobby, whereas the other candidates probably had all kinds of fancy degrees from Ivy League universities. Besides, this job was not exactly how he’d envisioned his life would be at this point. He’d always pictured that instead of dealing with programming languages and algorithms and product life cycles, he would have had to spend his time doing rounds and on-call shifts at the city state hospital where he’d been interning. He’d thought he would have been well into the second or third year of cardiothoracic residency by now, learning and training how to fix treatable conditions and raise people’s hopes, as well as saving their lives and preventing their loved ones from having to lose them too early. _It’s funny how your life could change with just one little choice, one little mistake._

Leorio still remembered his old life like it just happened yesterday — the sterile smell of the hospital corridors, the somehow organized chaos of the emergency room, the cups of coffee and energy drinks he’d had to get into his system to keep himself awake on long nights, and the almost ecstatic high he’d felt when he’d managed to save a patient that had made all other inconveniences fade to the background. He would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t missed any of those things. 

Yet every single day, he still told himself that exact lie, over and over. 

_For the good of other people,_ he’d rationalize. _For the good of other people._

“I’m done, Leorio! I’ll be going now!” Gon jumped up from his chair energetically, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He was just about to run to the door when Leorio stopped him. “Hey, wait, Gon! What time will you be going home today?”

“Mmmm, not sure. Probably after six? We’re going to analyze some bees’ respiration data today and you know I’m not great with numbers.” Gon made a face. “I’m gonna be slow at this, I’m sure.”

“Okay, then you’d better go home with me. All the buses will be crazy crowded after six. Just ride the MRT to my office as usual when you’re done, alright?”

“Okay! Bye, Leorio!”

“Bye, Gon. See you later!”

The apartment door closed with a loud slam. Everything about Gon was loud, Leorio thought, from the bright green tips of his dyed, spiky hair, to his red-and-green bomber jacket, right down to his black combat boots, which were criss-crossed with red, yellow, and green patterns that the boy had painted himself. Gon was always full of bouncing vitality; always running, jumping, and laughing. He loved to explore the untamed nature, probably courtesy of growing up in Baleia Island, a considerably famous tourist spot to the northeast of Ilia, widely known for its vast natural reserves and sprawling beaches. He’d been brought up there by his aunt, Mito, and his great-grandmother, Abe. Mito was a younger cousin of Gon’s father, Ging, who had largely been absent throughout his son’s life. Ging was a rather highly-accomplished archaeologist, so he was always running around the globe chasing some ancient city ruins or mummy remains or other dead and buried things instead of fulfilling his responsibility as a father. Leorio wasn’t related to Ging, _thankfully._ He and Gon were second cousins from both their mothers’ side (they were both gone, God bless their souls), but it still didn’t stop him from giving Ging a piece of his mind every time they miraculously spoke on the phone. It still fell on deaf ears, though, not that Leorio wouldn’t _make_ the bastard deaf in reality if given the chance. _Who the fuck leaves their son for decades at a time just to mess around with some stones, or grocery lists, or fucking wine jugs from thousands of years ago? Are the secrets of ancient civilizations really more precious than a child who you have brought into the world, a child who needs your guidance and protection more than anything else?? Give me a break._

Despite all that, Gon had grown up to be a high-spirited and cheerful young man, whose easy laughter and helpful nature had managed to make Leorio’s cramped two-bedroom apartment seem more like a home, and it had made him feel attached to the kid with a deeper bond than he’d expected. Leorio didn’t know when he’d started to fuss over him like an overprotective mom, but he seemed to have taken the responsibility of keeping Gon happy, healthy, and (somewhat) prosperous. Although he still would like to receive more, his job fortunately paid well enough to keep them both living a respectable life in this increasingly metropolitan city, and Ging wasn’t that bad of a bastard yet to completely neglect his son’s financial needs. All in all, this was a stage in his life where Leorio should have felt content with where he was at and what he had accomplished, because if he really thought about it, he had it better than most people his age.

So why did it still feel like he had a gaping, gasping, painfully empty hole inside his chest?

Leorio glanced at the wall clock hanging above the kitchen cabinets and started. _Shit, it’s almost 10 o’clock already. I gotta take a bath and be ready to leave in under fifteen minutes._ He immediately brought the dirty plates and eating utensils to the sink and left them there after turning on the tap for a few seconds. He’d deal with the cleaning up tonight after work.

_Sometimes procrastination is the way to the stars, people._

* * *

“Watch where you’re going, shithead!”

“Hey, douchebag, you’re the one turning on the wrong sign! How do I know you planned on turning left when you have your right turn signal on??!” Leorio shouted back in anger at the biker in front of him, even though the guy was already swerving amidst the oncoming traffic that he probably couldn’t have heard him. “Stupid jerk,” he cursed as he turned left a second time and brought his old Toyota Corolla to a stop in front of the parking lot portal of DocTalk’s office. 

“Morning, sir. Running a little late today?” Irma, the attendant currently manning the parking counter beside the portal, smiled at Leorio as she handed him his ticket. She was a very pretty girl, with black hair, chocolate skin, and a sunny disposition as well as a strong memory to know almost all the office’s employees she’d met by face and name. She was basically Leorio’s favorite parking staff, which was just what he needed after bracing Jannea’s crazy rush hour traffic.

“I am, as a matter of fact. Otherwise, I would rather stay here a little longer to chat with you, long queues be damned.” Leorio winked at her, earning him a few shy giggles, which sounded like music to his ear. _Ah, girls are amazing._ “Thanks for the ticket, Irma. Have a nice day.”

“You too, sir.”

Leorio proceeded to park his car in his usual spot, a shaded space under a tall jackfruit tree, feeling relieved at the fact that it was still unoccupied so he didn’t have to go to the cramped basement. He took his briefcase from the passenger seat and opened the car door, stretching his long legs for a moment before locking the car and made his move towards his friend Phinks, who was waving his hand at him from the smoking area.

“Mondays, amirite?” Phinks said by way of greeting. He was leaning against a stone pillar, nonchalantly tossing and catching back a green lighter with his right hand, cigarette smoke billowing around his face. “How was your weekend?”

“Awful. Friday night was especially a nightmare. But at least it’s only three more days until payday,” Leorio replied, taking out a cigarette which he lit using Phinks’ lighter. He blew out some smoke as he exhaled. “You were in the Friday night call too, weren’t you?”

“I was. Fucking tense, that was. But hey, at least your PM handled the situation nicely enough.”

“Ha, I doubt that. Cheadle asked our pod to come up with a solution today, but Kurapika didn’t contact any of us during the weekend, not even once. Maybe he managed to lobby for a looser deadline? Hell, I don’t know.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that he was probably trying to come up with the situation all by himself? We all know he’s a bit of a lone wolf.”

“Shit, you’re probably right.” Leorio turned to his friend, surprised. “I did text him about it, but he only told me he was busy and that we’d talk on Monday morning. _God,_ that annoying brat. Who knows what he’s come up with all by himself, without asking for our input first? It better not be some grand, over-complicated system that would be such a pain to build, considering his perfectionist nature.”

Phinks laughed. “You can’t deny that the systems your pod has built up to this point have been effective, though.”

“Effective, yes. Simple, no.” Leorio sighed, rolling his eyes. “He always insisted we go the extra lengths even for things that are not that important. Our last project? The **UI** designer had to revise his work back and forth for, like, close to five times before Kurapika gave his approval. I mean, it’s all well and good to want to give the best results, but come on, that much work for an internal tool’s UI? It’s too fucking much, man. To me, as long as we keep the users happy with a clear, bug-free system, it’s already good enough. It serves its function. We don’t need to follow such exact UI methodologies that nobody even knows shit about.” He shook his head and puffed, letting out another stream of smoke from his nostrils. “Sometimes I don’t even know why I put up with him.”

“Probably because he’s cute, if you like that sort of arrogant, preppy twink.” Phinks smirked meaningfully at Leorio. “Pretty boys and girls are your weakness. Isn’t that right?”

“Kurapika, cute?” Leorio mused aloud. His PM’s face appeared inside his mind. Kurapika looked good enough, appearance-wise, he supposed, with stylishly messy, layered blonde hair just long enough to graze the collar of an elegant blue _cheongsam_ he often wore, a slender yet athletic build, a face that was both delicately pretty and intimidatingly stern, and a pair of gorgeous grey eyes, big and intelligent, fringed by long, elegantly curled golden lashes. _Ahem, why was I able to imagine him in such detail?_ Leorio felt his face start to heat, and he fervently prayed that he wasn’t blushing. Well, okay, maybe Kurapika _was_ pretty, and there _had_ been instances where he caught himself staring at him a little too long, but that was no big deal, right? Human beings were generally drawn to beautiful things. That was totally, totally normal. Admiring someone’s appearance didn’t necessarily mean you had to like them as a person, and Leorio certainly couldn’t say that he liked Kurapika — even only as a colleague. 

“Well, I suppose so,” he finally answered Phinks, shrugging his shoulders while fervently praying inside his mind that he wasn’t blushing right then. “And he’s crazy smart, I admit it. But it doesn’t excuse his issues, alright? He’s so hung up on being perfect that it’s sometimes self-destructive, not to mention a little totalitarian for us subordinates. And he’s so proud and stubborn like his head is made of fucking rock. At this rate, even if he’s good-lookin’, nobody’s gonna spare him a second glance once they get to know him, you mark my words.”

“Yeah, well, guess you can’t have everything. At least he’s a good, responsible PM who takes his job seriously. Unlike mine.” Phinks sighed, running his hand through his sandy blonde hair. He rolled the sleeves of his green-and-white tracksuit to the elbows and showed Leorio his fingers. “I think last week I coded so hard that my knuckles started sprouting up muscles. Oh, hey, it rhymes.”

Leorio smiled sympathetically. “Chrollo’s giving you a hard time again?”

“Dude, he’s not giving us _any_ time, that’s the problem. Every day he comes to work only to open his laptop to some random coding page and use it as a cover to hide the fact that he’s reading some crappy self-help book behind the screen. In our pod, we engineers decide the work and do it by ourselves. The boss only _sometimes_ helps us with the prioritization and stuff, if we’re lucky. But since he’s usually the one who gets approached by stakeholders and higher-ups, everything we do becomes attributed to him. He gets credit for whatever we create, which, more often than not, he didn’t even lend a hand with. It’s frustrating, sometimes, but he _does_ make our pod look good, if only because he’s good at charming people.” Phinks rolled his eyes. “I mean, he can be really smart and charismatic if he wants to. Why doesn’t he try to be like that all the time? It’ll make all our jobs so much easier.”

“Talking trash while smoking again, kids? I swear, if you don’t take care of your health, you’re gonna kick the bucket before you’re sixty! Stop smoking, for God’s sake!”

Leorio turned to find a heavily pompadoured guy wearing an all-white outfit walking towards them, along with a shorter guy with jagged, medium-length black hair who, despite the hot and balmy weather, wore a black long coat and a neckerchief. “You keep saying that, Knuckle, but you still come here everyday and steal our cigarettes for yourself,” Leorio said in mock annoyance to the guy in white. “You’re all bark and no bite, dude.”

“Aw, shuddup,” Knuckle replied, snatching Leorio’s cigarette box from the man’s shirt pocket. “I only do it once in a while, not like you smokestacks. Phinks, lend me your lighter.”

Phinks bristled. “Why does _nobody_ here bring their own lighter?!”

“Why should we, when we have yours to use?” Feitan, the guy in the black coat, answered in a flat tone, taking the lighter from Knuckle to light his own cigarette. He blew out several smoke rings which slowly floated upwards, like a rising sun. Leorio watched with a little envy, since he’d been trying to recreate that trick for God knows how long, but had never succeeded. 

“You’re a bunch of poor, lazy ass good-for-nothings.” Phinks rolled his eyes.

“Takes one to know one, bro.”

“Hey, guys, I gotta run,” Knuckle interjected, stealing a glance at his phone screen. “I’ve got a meeting in five mins. Catch ya later. Thanks for the cigs, Leo!” He jogged away toward the office entrance door, waving his arm in goodbye, a chorus of casual farewells echoing from the remaining three guys.

“How are things upstairs, Fei?” Phinks asked after Knuckle left. “Morning chaos started yet?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Franklin was just going to the coffee shop downstairs and of course, he asked if anybody wanted anything. Everyone started clamoring for their orders and Knuckle started screaming because they were being very loud, which, you see, only made the situation worse. And nobody takes him seriously anyway. The guy acts tough, but he’s actually a softie, and that’s not really a secret. Did you guys know he works part-time as a dog sitter on the weekends? And not because he needs money or anything. It’s just as a hobby.”

“Dog sitter?” Leorio started to laugh. “Really? Who told you that?”

“Machi met him at Moco Park last weekend. This morning we were making plans to hang out at this Saturday’s Car Free Day, and Machi being Machi, she just said point-blank that Knuckle wouldn’t be able to make it because he has that dog sitting job. And we all immediately know that he’s doing it by choice, because he likes it. ‘Cause with that salary of his and his average lifestyle, he won’t ever need to work two jobs.”

Leorio was all-out laughing now, open and boisterous, like he had no care in the world. “Not that I have anything against dog sitting jobs, but if you think about Knuckle doing that, it gets funnier because at first he’s going to deny enjoying it but ends up falling in love with the dogs anyway. No one in the team will take him seriously anymore when he starts raising his voice ‘cause, you know, we’re probably gonna get like, ‘Aw, look at that cute puppy trying to scare us, thinking he’s a big dog’ or something.”

Phinks laughed as well, flicking some ash into a nearby ashtray and then dropping his spent cigarette butt into it. “Maybe I’ll hire him to dog-sit my Anubis,” he said as he lit up another cigarette.

“Your goldie? How is that good boy doing? He was sick last month, right?” Leorio asked as he caught Phinks’ wrist and leaned down in order to use the lighter the other man was holding to light up his own cigarette. 

“He’s fine now. The vet said it’s just food allergy.”

“Glad to hear that.” Leorio started to straighten up, and that was when he felt his phone vibrating. “Woops, I think someone’s calling me.” He fished his phone from inside his pants pocket and started a little when he saw Kurapika’s name blinking on the screen. His boss rarely called him at his personal phone number, so this was something a little out of the ordinary. _Shoot, he’s probably about to ask why I haven’t come in yet._

He tapped the flashing green icon on the screen before putting the phone to his ear. “Yes, boss? I’m on my way.”

Kurapika’s voice on the other end of the line was tersely clipped, and he didn’t even bother to say hello first. “On your way to what, exactly? To lighting up another cigarette?”

Leorio was so startled he dropped his just-lit cigarette like it was made entirely of live coals. _What? How did he know? Is he here?! But that’s impossible, he hates the smell of cigarette smoke._ He turned around a few times in random circles, frantically looking around for the sight of his PM. He could also sense Kurapika’s bad mood through the connection like a dreaded drop of a coin, and he immediately wracked his brain for ways he might have made him angry. _I didn’t ignore his requests or anything during the weekend, did I?_ And then a scary realization creeped up on him. _Shit, he’s not close by or anything, is he? If he is, how long has he been here? Did he hear us gossiping about him? Oh no, what if he’s lurking around like a stalker because he wants to find evidence that he can use to sack me?_ Still flurried, he stammered a reply, “I — Wha — How do you — Are you _stalking_ me?”

“Of course not, you idiot, why in the world would I stalk you?” Kurapika sounded exasperated and exhausted at the same time, inhaling and exhaling a few deep breaths that were audible through the phone, making Leorio cringe inside. “I can see you from the window. Do you know what time it is now? Do you think you still have time to be smoking and gossiping right now?” 

_The time? I’m not that late, am I?_ Leorio raised his wrist to look at his watch, a cheap and outdated secondhand Seiko model that he wore purely for sentimental reasons because it had been a college graduation present from his late _abuela,_ who had been his primary caretaker since his parents died in a car accident when he was fourteen. His eyes bulged when he saw that it was 11:29 AM, and that he only had less than one minute to spare before it was time for his team’s daily standup. _Good God, I am that late. No wonder this twink is angry._

Leorio tried his hardest to sound repentant as he started walking quickly towards the office building, leaving his friends behind after gesturing first to his phone and then his watch, waving an awkward, haphazard goodbye with the arm that was holding his briefcase. “Oh – shit, I’m _so_ sorry, Kurapika. I lost track of time. I’m – I’m going up now, okay? You guys can start first if you don’t mind. I’m gonna be there as soon as I can!!”

He heard Kurapika sigh heavily, and his brows furrowed. _Did something happen? He sounds even more tense than usual._ Before he could ask, though, Kurapika had hung up the phone after intimidatingly telling him to _run,_ the word sounded like it had been crunched out from behind gritted teeth and clenched fists that Leorio automatically obeyed, running for all he was worth through the office main lobby and straight to the elevators, without so much as a nod to Alex, the security officer posted at the front desk that he sometimes chatted up. He cursed when he saw the long queues in front of all three of the elevator doors. _This won’t do. From the looks of it, Kurapika’s gonna kill me if I show up any later than I already am. Fuck it, I’m taking the stairs._

He banged the door to the emergency stairs open and started running, taking the steps two or three at a time, all while simultaneously thanking whatever deity out there had blessed him with long legs _and_ an office which wasn’t located at some fancy high-rise buildings packing more than thirty-odd floors. DocTalk’s office headquarters in Jannea was in a simple ten-storey building, shared with two other startup companies as well as some banks, trendy restaurants, and a grocery store. It was hardly the most luxurious office complex in Hopscotch area — Jannea’s very own Silicon Valley — a fact that he and his smoker gang sometimes bemoaned, but one that he was most grateful for today, for he only needed to run up the stairs until the third floor in order to, hopefully, get to his daily standup meeting without being _too_ terribly late and placate his difficult, perfection-is-the-only-way-forward boss. 

He finally arrived at his floor, panting a little heavily as he tapped his employee name tag at the front door’s scanner. The glass door slid open noiselessly, showing him the typical view of a Monday morning’s work situation. Most people were seated at their desks, eyes glued to their own laptops. A few were walking briskly in various directions, holding their laptops close to their chest, looking so very sophisticated and important, sparing no glance to the other passers-by. Some were wearing noise-canceling headphones as their hands danced on their keyboards, either on a meeting call or playing whatever music got their brains going. The smell of coffee and minty air freshener wafted in the air, mingling with the bittersweet scent of hopeful ambitions and dreams that these twenty- and thirty-somethings openly wore like a best-selling perfume. Leorio dashed through the rows of long tables, almost crashing into a well-dressed woman holding a sloshing cup of coffee, and finally skidded into a stop right in front of a small, secluded room in a corner surrounded by glass walls. He could see all his teammates already standing inside, clustered around a high, square table the height of an average person’s chest. Kurapika was pacing back-and-forth in front of a whiteboard, his hand fiddling with a plastic board eraser. _Please, God, don’t let him hurl that thing at me._

He flung open the glass door, wincing a little at the cold metal handle. “I’m here! Sorry I’m late!”

“About time,” Kurapika quipped, his hand clenching the board eraser a little tighter. “Thank you for finding the time in your busy schedule to grace us with your presence, _Mister_ Leorio.”

The honorific title, spoken with such hostile, deprecating sarcasm, grated on Leorio’s ear like an annoyingly persistent mosquito, inching his temper towards its boiling point. “I said I’m _sorry,_ alright? This is the first time in nine months that I’ve been late to daily standup, Kurapika. Cut me some slack, would you? Not everyone can be prim and proper all the damn time like you.”

Kurapika’s eyes flashed towards him, dangerously roiling like a gray, stormy sea. “I can’t afford to cut _anyone_ any slack today, Leorio, or any day, really, during the next three months. If you hadn’t been late, you _probably_ would have understood why.” He turned back to the whiteboard, where there had already been some flowcharts drawn with a neat, steady hand, dismissing Leorio with a flick of his head. “Now, as I was saying — “

Kurapika proceeded to fill everyone in about the project they were all expected to deliver within the next ten weeks in light of last Friday night’s fatal issue. Everything else in their pipeline would have to be dropped for this single, most important product of the quarter. Leorio could sense the agitation and stress simmering behind the PM’s calm, matter-of-fact tone, and he could also grasp the importance of this project and the great expectation riding on all their shoulders. _But all this sounds preposterous._ Phinks’ hunch had turned out to be right after all; Kurapika _had_ come up with this whole project’s idea along with its timeline and roadmap and work divisions all _by himself_ during the weekend, without asking any of his engineers’ input. That alone was enough to make Leorio angry, and that wasn’t even considering the fact that this ML-based system was a completely new territory for all of them. Not one of them was trained in Data Science. And they were expected to launch this, at least a prototype of it, in just ten weeks? Didn’t they at least deserve some leniency because they would have to first learn how an ML system was even supposed to _work_ so they don’t spend their time stumbling in the dark? The answer to that question was, apparently, a big fat _no._

“This is ridiculous, Kurapika,” Leorio said without waiting for Kurapika to customarily ask the team if anyone had any questions. “Do you really think ten weeks is enough time for us to build a completely new ML system with multiple actors and elements from scratch? You’ve gotta be kidding me. I have nothing against this particular architecture, but come on, you can’t seriously expect us to build something this complicated in such a short time. You perfectly know that even the **Integration testing** phase might very well take up a whole week. Please don’t say you’ve promised this ungodly deadline to Cheadle and the rest of the higher-ups.”

“As a matter of fact, I did promise them this,” Kurapika answered, folding his arms in a defensive stance. “But I’ve already taken into consideration the time needed for you all to learn how an ML-based system works before drafting the timeline, Leorio. You can spend this week doing just that. And Knov from DS has also agreed to help us. I just received word from him that he’ll lend us two of his engineers and an analyst. That should address your concerns, I should think.” He turned back to the whiteboard, dismissing Leorio with a little flick of his wrist. “Now, onto my next point — “

“Alright, listen here, you arrogant little prick.” Leorio interjected. He started to feel his flammable temper spark, and he didn’t even try to tamp it down because for God’s sake, this was utter insanity. “No normal person can master an entirely new concept in just one _week._ Maybe _you_ can, but not us, and certainly not me, I’m not ashamed to admit it. Sure, we can try winging it with the help of Knov’s guys, but is it worth it? If we end up building a fucked up system because of our lack of knowledge and experience and just some goddamn _time_ to acquire both, what are you gonna do? What are you gonna do, huh?”

Kurapika turned around swiftly, digging his fingers around the board eraser tighter. The rest of himself was so still and rigid, like a statue. It looked like he was trying very, very hard not to lose control and smack Leorio’s head upside down. He closed his eyes for a moment before answering: “That will _not_ happen, Leorio. We are not going to build a ‘fucked up system’, borrowing your crude terminology, because I won’t allow it. Not on my watch. And a week is plenty of time to have a general understanding of what we’re going to build, because I’ve done so over the past weekend. If I can do it, so can you. And you can call me an arrogant little prick all you want. The fact still remains that I am the one who makes the decisions around here. So deal with that.”

“God, how many times do I have to spell it out for you, Kurapika?! You can’t always make _yourself_ the standard for every little thing that you want _others_ to do for you! Just because _you_ can do it, doesn’t mean others can! Try to be a little more considerate and a little less degrading, why don’t you?!” Leorio felt the eyes of his teammates on him, awkward and a little anxious, but he didn’t care. It was his job as the lead engineer to stand up to their boss if the guy was being an unreasonable jerk, in order to avoid leaving the whole pod in the hands of a tyrant. This was certainly one of those moments. “If you want to build something this complicated extra fast, why don’t you build it yourself, if you’re so high and mighty, huh?!” he added, leaning down across the table towards Kurapika like he wanted to strangle him, his hands gripping the edge in anger.

Kurapika leaned down on the opposite side, too, his face just mere inches from Leorio’s. “I would gladly do so, Leorio,” he hissed through clenched teeth, low and dangerous. “But then you’d lose the only reason this company hired you, and you’ll probably end up in the streets. Are you sure you want that, being the money whore, payday-waiting little dunce that you are?”

Leorio hissed right back. “Take that back, Kurapika,” he commanded. The next iteration of the same sentence was shouted in full force. “Take that back!!!”

But Kurapika was adamant, a tightly wound coil of rage just mere seconds away from unleashing. “ _No,_ ” he said. “Never.”

“What’s wrong with wanting money, huh, you motherfucking goody two shoes?!” Leorio screamed, not caring whether or not the glass room they were in was in any way soundproof. “Everyone loves money!! I can bet you my whole life savings that at least ninety percent of people here work their asses off, day in and day out, for _money,_ including me! And yes, maybe I _am_ the most gold-digging asshole in here but SO WHAT??! With money, you can buy _everything!_ And I’m not even talking about luxurious cars or houses. I’m talking dreams, ambitions, freedom, love, even people’s lives and futures!”

Kurapika’s eyes narrowed, and there was something else in there that was not quite anger and more like… Hurt? Sadness? Helplessness? Leorio was taken aback for a moment, trying to decipher Kurapika’s emotions that had somehow turned ten times more complicated. “That just shows how little you know about whatever comes out of your own mouth, Leorio, and that unsurprisingly proves that at least for you, there’s one thing that money cannot buy, and that is _class._ I’m not even gonna ask you to take your last words back because you wouldn’t get in the _slightest_ why you should,” Kurapika responded hotly before Leorio could figure out if he should back down and apologize or whatever. There was a slight tremor in Kurapika’s dainty hands, he noticed, and his senses were telling him that some deeper issues were at play here. But he didn’t know what they were. _Nor did I want to know._

They stared at each other for what seemed like a long time, and if this was a cartoon, there would already be smoke coming out from both their ears and zaps of lightning being passed from one pair of eyes to the other. Their tense silence was finally broken by Melody, who cleared her throat a few times to catch their attention before speaking in her soft, calming voice: “Guys, if I may share my thoughts, I think both of you presented the right points.”

“Elaborate, Melody,” replied Kurapika, without taking his still-smoldering eyes off Leorio’s. Leorio expected to see hatred inside them, but there was only pride and a stubborn, almost desperate determination as high and long as the Great Wall of China, as well as _that one other thing_ that he couldn’t yet put a name to. _What is it, Kurapika? Why is this particular project so important to you? This is more than just the company’s OKR, this is more than just for the year-end performance report. What is it, dear God?_

“I think Leorio was right, in saying that we’ll probably need more time to deliver this the right way. But Kurapika was also right in imposing a rather tight deadline, since we can say that the company’s NSM is probably riding on the success of this project. So, to compromise both points, I think we can try Kurapika’s suggestion first by trying to learn this new concept within this week and try putting whatever we’ve learned to use by next Monday. Learning by doing is still a form of learning, no?” Melody smiled, tilting her head high to look both Kurapika and Leorio in the eyes, since her head didn’t even come up to the center table. “I’m sure Leorio is just concerned about the outcome of this system, because if we make a mistake, our users might suffer in consequence. But if anything goes wrong, at least we’ll share the responsibility with Knov’s engineers. Also, should we need more time, I think Kurapika can help us negotiate with the higher-ups, right?”

There was nothing aggressive in Melody’s tone, but Leorio got a strange feeling that she was trying to steer their heated discussion towards a more amicable conclusion, regardless. Anyway, Leorio wasn’t about to complain if she could accomplish just that. _Bless that girl for always being the sane one around here._ He stole a glance at Kurapika just then, and he saw that the blond had straightened out his posture and looked to be composing himself. “You’re right, Melody. Alright, everyone, you heard her. That’s what we’ll do. This week, read up on any trusted materials you can find from anywhere legal about Data Science and Machine Learning, and we’ll also have more in-depth brainstorm sessions about what we’re going to build. Is there any other question?”

“I have one,” said Leorio. _My God, if looks could kill,_ he thought, seeing how Kurapika’s eyes had slid sharply again to his, looking like he wanted to burn him right where he was standing. “That part of your calculations there,” he began, gesturing towards a corner of the whiteboard, “It stated that one of the most likely negative impacts of this system is the ten percent increase in processing time for doctor allocations. That means long running jobs, and unless we set up some queueing mechanism somewhere, we’re gonna end up with a lot of **timeouts** , and that can end up biting us in the ass if left untreated. Do you already have an idea for us to counter that?”

Leorio waited for another biting response, but Kurapika just stared at him, blinking a few times, his Adam’s apple bobbing in an almost nervous swallow, seemingly losing his train of thought. _Is he… panicking? Did he really not think of that particular consequence?_ It seemed unbelievable to him that Kurapika hadn’t exhausted any future downside that could occur with this system, because the guy was usually the very definition of _prepared._ “Kurapika, you — don’t say you haven’t thought of that?”

Kurapika inhaled sharply. “It seems that particular possibility has escaped my notice,” he said in a shaky voice. “Thank you for pointing it out, Leorio. You’re right, it can prove disastrous for us. Instead of increasing completed consultations like what we’re hoping for, it might even decrease them.”

“Bullshit, Kurapika. That’s not what’s important here. Timeouts or any kind of errors on our customer app, which can hinder their ability to reach our trusted doctors, can decide _literal life and death_ for some people, okay? I don’t give a single _shit_ on the company’s North Star fucking Metric if we can’t provide accessible healthcare to the people who really needs it. What we do here can seriously save _lives,_ real people’s lives, maybe even more than a _real doctor_ can, and if your fancy system is about to hinder that, then I will _not_ fucking tolerate it.” Leorio paused to take a breath. He didn’t realize he’d balled his hands into tight fists, and he inhaled again as he slowly loosened them. Snippets of blood and test papers and a heart monitor’s moving straight line started to dance before his eyes, and he fought to keep them at bay. _Don’t think about all that, Leorio, you fool. This is not the time to think about that._ “Listen, we can solve this the easy way. I think we can have one default condition that must be satisfied by the algorithm, and then we can impose a limit on the processing time, like for example, if it takes more than fifteen seconds for the allocation system to decide, then as long as that default condition is already satisfied, we go with the most optimal choice without waiting for the other multiple conditions to give us an answer. In other words, we plant a backup logic that can bypass the model aggregator if it takes too long to process the job. That way, the consultation can still go through and it has a high chance of getting completed, without any strain on the user experience. The modification in the configs should be simple enough, but we still have to decide on the default condition. I mean, I don’t know.” He sighed, feeling somewhat annoyed that he still had to defer the final decision to Kurapika. “Well, what do you think? Got any better ideas?”

He felt Kurapika’s eyes on him before he even finished speaking, like a heavy anchor that brought him down from the high of his monologue. Leorio stared him back down in challenge, ready for his PM to shoot his idea down and tell him he was an idiot for wanting to save the lives of faceless users, whom neither of them knew or could even see in person, instead of advancing their company’s revenue and reputation, but Kurapika’s expression didn’t show any of those things. There were so many subtle emotions flitting across Kurapika’s face that Leorio couldn’t keep track for very long; from looking taken aback to confusion to mild interest that grew stronger by the second. It was as though he was giving something a second chance, like he was looking at a puzzle that he previously thought had been too disgustingly simple to warrant his full attention only for him to realize that it was far more complicated to be easily solved, that it might end up being worthy of his time after all. 

The next words that came out from Kurapika’s mouth surprised Leorio even more. “That... was actually a very good idea, Leorio,” he said. “I might need to consult Bisky first and probably Knov as well before we decide on the default condition, however. I’ll circulate back to all of you once I’ve done that.” He typed something quickly on his laptop, probably taking a note of what exactly he had to do. When his fingers had stopped their fast punches on the keyboard keys, he looked up towards Leorio, blonde bangs bouncing a little with the movement. His face had taken a softened, almost embarrassed look, making him seem younger, cuter. “Forgive me, Leorio. I made a mistake,” he said, in the friendliest tone Leorio had ever heard him use. “And sorry for yelling at you earlier. You’re right, you all deserve a looser deadline, considering the circumstances, so I’ll try talking to Bisky if we could maybe get another one or two weeks of buffer time before we really have to launch. But I make no promises.”

Leorio was so stunned he felt like he had to pick up his jaw off the floor. _Did Kurapika just apologize to me???_ In all the nine months that Leorio had been part of the team, he had never heard Kurapika apologize to _anyone,_ let alone him. The guy was proud and stubborn, unbending to a fault, which was one of the reasons why they kept butting heads the way they’d just done earlier. Leorio hated overly proud people, people who seemed to think like they were so high up on the proverbial food chain that they’d never deign to give mediocre people like himself the time of day. All throughout his school days, people would always laugh at him when he said that he wanted to become a doctor, or that he liked to code and study various programming languages in his spare time. Even if they hadn’t laughed, they’d always nod and smile in that typical way people did when they didn’t believe you in the slightest yet still wanted to spare your feelings by acting as though they did. They’d probably roll their eyes behind his back, telling one another that a popular high-school jock wouldn’t have the brains to amount to anything too academically ambitious, especially considering he was also a poor little orphan who wasn’t even rich or privileged enough to bribe his way into medical school. Imagine their surprise when they’d heard that Leorio had managed to be accepted into University of Ilia’s Faculty of Medicine, the most prestigious medical college in the country, on full scholarship, no less, or that he was now working as a lead engineer at one of the fastest-growing tech startups in Southeast Asia. Being belittled and underestimated was Leorio’s biggest pet peeve, yet he knew that sometimes he just couldn’t help it. Sometimes it was just the way of the world, and it sucked. It sucked _balls_ , especially when it came from your colleagues, your boss, people you were expected to trust and work and collaborate with on a daily basis, which was why he never really got along with Kurapika beyond rigid professional boundaries.

But somehow, this exact moment felt like it might change all that. 

An elbow jab in the ribs from Basho startled him awake from his stupefied state and made him realize that he hadn’t answered Kurapika’s honest apology. “Huh? Ah — yes — of course, that works, Kurapika. Thank you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “And I’m — sorry too, you know. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, either. I know you’re under a lot of pressure from the higher-ups and I shouldn’t have goaded you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Don’t mention it.” Kurapika beamed at him, a real, full smile, relaxed and a little bashful. The kind of smile you could bottle up and save for a rainy day’s consolation. _Ooo-kay, what was that thought just now?_ Leorio mused in awkward confusion, feeling his heart rate also spike a little. He quickly dismissed it as the result of drinking too much coffee at breakfast. _It was nothing out of the ordinary, but I really should cut back on my caffeine intake. Yep, that must be it._

“Alright, now, if there’s no more questions, I think we can wrap up,” Kurapika said again, turning around to face the whiteboard and making a move to erase the writings. “Please get started on reviewing ML concepts right away. Don’t hesitate to come to me if you have any questions.”

* * *

“Kurapika, you got a minute? Oh, sorry.” 

Leorio stopped himself from barging inside the room when he saw that Kurapika wasn’t alone. There was a bored-looking boy about Gon’s age sitting beside Kurapika, his hands loosely joined behind his head, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than at this plush, heavily air-conditioned meeting room where Kurapika usually fled to so he could work in solitude. A pair of purple-blue eyes slid lazily towards Leorio, cold and disinterested. There was something a little disconcerting about the boy, Leorio thought. He had pale skin and even paler hair, fluffy silvery-white strands that spiked around his head in various directions, with long bangs that shrouded his forehead. His eyes were sharp and intelligent, maybe _too_ intelligent, their corners slanting upwards in a mysterious, almost feral shape, like a cat’s. Everything about the boy exuded elegant grace and languid confidence, as well as a quiet, analytical indifference that seemed to size everything up according to a set of unknown, unwritten standards. And there was also something _else,_ something Leorio couldn’t quite put his finger on, something so calmly bold and mischievous, like the boy had somehow stared into the abyss of all suffering and managed to make it out alive.

The boy threw a cheeky smirk at Leorio. “Hi there, pops. You gonna come in or what?”

For some reason, Leorio had a crazy thought that the smirk made him look almost predatory.

“ _Po — Pops_??” Leorio sputtered. “Hey, kid, I’m probably only eight years older than you, you know!” He stared at the boy, incredulous at his strange, casual rudeness. “Anyway, yeah, I’d like to come in. I wanna have a quick talk with you, Kurapika, if that’s okay?” He glanced at Kurapika, who was sitting with his right elbow on the table, massaging the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. He somehow looked ready to keel over, either from physical or mental exhaustion. If Leorio had to guess, it was probably both. “I mean I can also wait, if you guys still have something to discuss,” he added. “No big deal. I can always come back later.”

“It’s probably best if you do that. I’ll probably be done in another fifteen minutes.” Kurapika sighed, and Leorio had a feeling that he didn’t actually believe what he’d just said himself. 

“Okay. Fifteen minutes later it is,” Leorio replied. He was just turning back to walk out the door when Kurapika called him back.

“Actually, Leorio — Um, perhaps you could assist us with a little something here. Come in,” Kurapika said in a rather subdued tone. “But before that, let me introduce you to Killua Zoldyck, our new intern. He’ll be working closely with us during the next three months. Killua, this is Leorio, my pod’s lead engineer.” 

Leorio walked closer to the two guys and finally came to a stop beside Kurapika’s chair. He nodded to the boy — Killua — who only looked at him with that same foxy smirk. “Lead engineer, huh? Who would have thought.” Killua let out a low chuckle.

“What — What does that even mean, you brat?!” Leorio couldn’t help but felt like he’d been insulted.

“Leorio, honestly, will you shush?” Kurapika responded tersely, his hand reaching out to touch Leorio’s bare forearm in an attempt to hold back the engineer’s explosive temper. It was just a casual gesture, just the lightest of brushes from the blond’s fair fingers, but it was the most expression of camaraderie Kurapika had ever shown towards him, and Leorio felt it almost like an electric shock. _Oooookay, this is weird. First he apologized to me, and now this?_ However, before he could decide if he should just brush it off or show his confusion or, _God forbid,_ blush like a touch-starved idiot, Kurapika had launched into an explanation of another thing entirely. 

“Killua and I haven't been able to agree on a project that he should carry out for the duration of his internship,” he began, absent-mindedly knocking a pen against the wooden table. “So we kind of need a third person’s opinion. We’ve come up with three choices already, so far. A user **churn** prediction model, a social media-based **sentiment analysis** , and a competitor **web or app scraping** ,” Kurapika ticked off each project choice on his fingers. He then proceeded to give a quick summary for each, his eyes darting to Killua a few times in irritation and annoyance. “Our problem is, Killua seems to think all of these projects I proposed are _too simple,_ not worth the time of a UC Berkeley honor student. So, Leorio, since you’re here, maybe you can propose another project that might probably satisfy _His Little Highness_ here?”

Leorio cleared his throat to disguise a snort that he couldn’t tamp down. The boy was annoying and rude, sure, and also apparently arrogant and snobbish as hell, but he couldn’t deny that it was amusing seeing Kurapika finally met his match in both cool confidence and stubbornness in a little brat who wasn’t even out of college yet. Leorio was sure that the blond had come here fully expecting the intern not to question his project ideas, only for them to get thrown back on his face with a matter-of-fact, apathetic remark, and now he looked ready to burn this whole place down in his stress. _Heh. I’m sorry, Kurapika, but this is pretty funny._

Leorio suddenly remembered hearing about this intern back when his application had still been under review. Killua Zoldyck, a third-year student of UC Berkeley’s Economics major who was also minoring in Data Science. A home-schooled child prodigy who had been pocketing gold medals left and right from national and international tech olympiads, and had also been working in his family’s business since he was twelve years old, child labor law be damned. Speaking about his family business, Killua was the third son and heir of the Zoldyck family, whose members were basically celebrities. Silva Zoldyck, the patriarch and Killua’s father, was the founder and current owner of Rhine Group, a multinational technology company which was originally based in Seattle and largely focused on e-commerce, cloud computing, digital streaming, and artificial intelligence, among other ventures. But even before becoming a tech giant, the Zoldycks had been mega rich since maybe seven previous generations, making their money in banking and shipping, real estate, oil refining, and some entertainment news sites even said that their roots could be traced to a Scandinavian tycoon who’d dabbled in the opium trade since the 1800s. But no matter where they’d gotten their money from, the fact still remained that Killua was _crazy rich._ And crazy smart, too. Leorio couldn’t fathom why the kid had applied for an internship _here,_ instead of trying his luck in bigger companies more befitting of his status and potential, such as Google or Microsoft or Amazon. And that was assuming he wasn’t allowed to intern at _his own family’s company_ , which was obviously doing so, so much better than DocTalk.

Anyway, Leorio wasn’t called here to judge the kid’s unconventional career choice. He looked down at Kurapika and Killua, who both looked back expectantly at him in two different ways. Kurapika looked like he was trying hard not to beg Leorio to save him from this situation where his ideas had been wrung dry yet he still had to present himself as the tough, strong, no-nonsense leader he was, while Killua just looked strangely amused and mildly challenging. A certain fondness for the two of them stole into Leorio’s heart just then, although he wasn’t quite sure what had brought it about. Was it because he finally felt needed, in a professional capacity? Leorio wasn’t sure, but he’d better start talking soon before Kurapika could combust and his team was left without a PM.

“Um, guys, I think we shouldn’t think too hard on this. And there’s no need to propose a new idea, because if one of Kurapika’s suggestions is too simple, why don’t Killua just do two of them, or even all three? I mean, for example, Killua can do the sentiment analysis project first, and then the output of that analysis can become the input for the churn prediction model. I myself am curious if what our users say about our app on their social media can be a good indicator for whether or not they’re going to stop using it.” Leorio shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what I think. How does that sound?”

He was answered by completely flat looks that were almost identical from the two other guys. They seemed almost… stunned, with slightly raised eyebrows and fluttering eyelids, and that confused Leorio. “Wha — was I not making any sense, guys?” he asked.

Kurapika was the one who recovered first — and his next reaction, to Leorio, was totally unexpected. He laughed. That was it, he laughed. And it was the _real_ kind of laugh, too, the kind Leorio honestly couldn’t remember his boss ever making in the office. Like, _ever._ It was a happy, relaxed, slightly incredulous sound that bubbled up from his chest and flowed out of his mouth in fits of giggles that got louder and louder by the second. It made him look his age, for once, just a young man in his early twenties, trying out new career paths in life and having fun, without shouldering too much burden and pressure that Leorio had never been able to figure out just exactly what. And it totally transformed his face. The traces of exhaustion and intimidating determination were blurred, replaced by a new look of wonder and mirth. If he’d been pretty before, now he looked almost… _radiant._

_Whoa. Where did that word even come from?_

“I’m sorry, Leorio, I — ahem — “ Kurapika cleared his throat a few times in order to get his laughter under control. When he finally could speak without smiling, he turned back to Leorio and said, “I apologize. I didn’t mean to laugh, but anyway, it wasn’t to mock you or anything. It was funny because it was so _simple,_ the way you solved what I thought was a big, annoying problem, and mostly I laughed at myself for not coming up with it myself. It was so simple yet brilliant. Really. All this time, and I never realized you had this much potential. I guess it was mostly my fault for not relying on my engineers more.” He grinned at Leorio, to which Leorio’s annoying heart decided to do a quick little somersault inside his chest in response, and then turned to Killua. “So, I think what Leorio said makes sense. You can do the sentiment analysis _and_ use it as one of the features for the churn prediction model. That should be complicated enough. You have to master several different algorithms and productionize a full-fledged ML product all in the span of three short months. What do you think, Killua?”

Killua glanced at Leorio with those fierce cat eyes, and smirked. “Not bad, old man. Okay, I accept.”

 _That easy??_ Leorio had a bad feeling that the boy had only been testing them since the start, just to see how they’d react, but he dismissed it. “Great. _Now_ can I talk to you, Kurapika?”

Kurapika assented, and they discussed a few things about the new system they were going to build. Afterwards, Kurapika proceeded to keep Leorio in the room to discuss Killua’s projects in more detail, as it turned out that the new intern had a _lot_ of questions, none of them easily answered. They only managed to get back to their desks after six o’clock, which was practically End of Day already.

As it turned out, Leorio wasn’t about to get any more work done that day.

“Leoriooo!”

Gon was practically bouncing in Leorio’s chair, smiling and waving as soon as Leorio stepped inside the work area, tailed by Killua and Kurapika. “Leorio, Leorio! Are you done with your work?” Gon shouted joyfully, his hands playfully fiddling with the _Visitor_ card slung around his neck. His voice then turned to a childish, adorable whine. “I’m hungggrryyyyy.”

Leorio smiled. “Hey, Gon. Alex let you in again?”

“He did! Also, I met Knuckle down at the receptionist. He opened the doors for me.”

“Ah. Figures. That guy always seems to have a soft spot for you.”

“Ahahaha! Yeah, he’s pretty cool! He showed me cute dog videos earlier while I was waiting for you. Melody, Basho, and Phinks also kept me company. But now they’ve all gone home.”

“I see. Did your professor let you off early?”

“Mm-hmm. Kinda,” Gon said distractedly. His eyes seemed to have latched onto something behind Leorio’s back. “By the way, Leorio, who’s that? Is he new?”

Leorio turned around to find Killua staring at them, even though his hands were busy putting his things inside his backpack. His very nice, very neat, very luxurious-looking leather backpack. Leorio would have bet an arm and a leg that it was designer-branded. _Seriously, these rich kids,_ he thought. _I bet the price of that backpack could have kept me and Gon living in luxury for at least a year._

Killua began to step around the desks, and in no time at all he was already standing between Gon and Leorio. “Hi,” he addressed Gon with a nod, a growing interest dominating his face. “Are you an employee here, too? But you only look my age. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty! And no, I’m not an employee. I just come here sometimes to catch a ride home from Leorio.” Gon beamed. “He’s my cousin, and we live in the same flat. I’m Gon, by the way!”

Killua, who had been standing with his hands in his trouser’s pockets, took his right hand out and offered it to Gon. “I’m Killua.”

“Hi, Killua!” Gon shook Killua’s hand in high spirits. “Are you new here?”

“Yeah. I just started my internship today.”

“Oh, cool! And how long will you be interning?”

“Three months.”

“And you’re in Leorio’s team? That’s so cool! Are you a software engineer, too?”

“Well, no, I’m a Data Analyst Intern, technically.”

“How is that different?”

Killua began to explain in more detail about his role there, and Gon listened with rapt attention, sometimes peppering him with more questions. Soon they were talking animatedly, sharing more things about themselves, exchanging stories and insights about their respective college majors.

“I studied Biology because I liked nature, like plants and animals,” said Gon, beaming. “In Bailea Island, my hometown, we managed a small winery. And there are so many plants there that we can ferment to make into different kinds of wine! Did you know that — “

“Gon, are we going home, or do you still want to stay here for a while?” Leorio interjected, slumping down into a nearby chair and making a move to open his laptop. “Because if it’s the latter, I’m gonna continue working.”

“Noo, don’t continue working!” Gon answered, looking expectantly at Leorio with his sparkling brown eyes. “I’m hungry. Let’s grab dinner before we go home, okay?”

Leorio chuckled. “Yeah, sure, _amigo._ What do you wanna eat? You choose.”

Gon hummed, seeming deep in thought. “Mmmm… How about that ramen place we had last month? I think it’s near here, right?”

“Oh, Yokohama? Yeah, sure, that sounds tasty. And yes, it’s near.”

“Great! Let’s go, Leorio! Oh, Killua, do you want to come, too?”

“Wha — What? Me?” Killua asked for confirmation with an incredulous look. It was the first time Leorio saw him lose his cool composure, during the few hours they’d known each other. There was something that looked like reluctant hope inside his eyes. “Um, but my chauffeur — Oh, what the hell. Sure, let’s go and have dinner,” Killua added.

“Yay!” Gon whooped. “It’s okay for Killua to come, right, Leorio?”

“Sure, kiddo. The more the merrier.” Leorio smiled. Gon and Killua seemed to have hit it off immediately, and Leorio wasn’t going to stay in the way of a budding friendship. “We can think of it as a welcome dinner for Killua. It’s a shame the other guys in the team have all gone home.” Leorio started to look around at the largely empty chairs, and that was when his eyes snagged on Kurapika, who was still slumped over a high desk by the windowsills, his eyes glued on his laptop screen. He had on what the team had dubbed ‘Kurapika’s thinking face’, trademarked with a slight wrinkle between his brows and an occasional impatient tapping of his fingers. To Leorio, it was the face of someone who would benefit greatly from a hot, delicious bowl of ramen and just a plain old _break._ And that thought was what spurred on his next action, so far out of the ordinary as it was.

“Hey, Kurapika!” he shouted. When the blond turned around, he continued, “Do you wanna go grab dinner with us?”

Kurapika gave him a baffled look. “What?”

Leorio sighed. He walked towards where Kurapika was sitting, and repeated his question, deliberately punctuating the key parts. “Dinner. Now. At the Yokohama Ramen House. With me, Gon, and Killua. Deal or no deal?”

Kurapika furrowed his brows even more. “No, I heard you the first time. But why — why would you ask me to join you? Won’t I just be in the way?”

“Nonsense.” Leorio scoffed. “You won’t be in the way. You’ve already known Gon practically since I joined your team. And it’s sort of a welcome dinner for Killua, since you know, it’s his first day as our intern. You’re the PM, so you should come too. Besides, you look like you could use a break. I don’t even recall seeing you leave your desk for lunch today.”

“Oh.” Kurapika thought for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth. “Come to think of it, I _do_ suppose I forgot to have lunch today.”

“Dear God, Kurapika, don’t you get, like — oh, I don’t know, _hungry?_ ” Leorio rolled his eyes. “ _Dios mio,_ you’re fucking weird. That’s it, you’re coming with us. Close that goddamn laptop, _now._ Gon!!” Leorio turned back towards his cousin. “Wait! Kurapika’s coming too!”

“Hooray!! Alright, Killua and I will be waiting by the lift! Come quickly!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one! 
> 
> **GLOSSARY**
> 
> **UI**
> 
> Abbreviation for User Interface: The point of human-computer interaction and communication in a device. This can include display screens, keyboards, a mouse and the appearance of a desktop.
> 
> **Integration Testing**
> 
> The phase in software testing in which individual software modules are combined and tested as a group, usually done in a testing app / environment (not available for all users). Integration testing is conducted to evaluate the compliance of a system or component with specified functional requirements. 
> 
> **Timeouts**
> 
> A specified period of time that will be allowed to elapse in a system before a specified event is to take place, unless another specified event occurs first; in either case, the period is terminated when either event takes place. Note: A timeout condition can be canceled by the receipt of an appropriate time-out cancellation signal.
> 
> Timeouts are not exactly a problem in and of itself. They are usually a symptom of another problem that we need to fix in the system.
> 
> In this case, Leorio is worried that timeouts will result in consultation requests being terminated, therefore hindering DocTalk's healthcare access to those who need it.
> 
> **Churn**
> 
> A measure of the number of individuals or items moving out of a collective group; or in this case, a measure of individuals who stopped being DocTalk users.
> 
> **Sentiment Analysis**
> 
> The use of natural language processing, text analysis, computational linguistics, and biometrics to systematically identify, extract, quantify, and study affective states and subjective information; such as general sentiments (positive, negative, or neutral), or even advanced emotional states (happy, sad, angry, etc.)
> 
> **Web or App Scraping**
> 
> Data scraping tehniques used for extracting data from websites or apps.


	3. Corvus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurapika finds out a few things about Leorio that he didn't hate, not even a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's me again!! With a new chapter!!  
> I apologize if I kept anyone waiting for too long. I'm a slow writer by nature and I keep getting distracted by playing Genshin Impact (you should try it, it's hella addicting), so yeah. But I'll try to post at least a new chapter every month, yay!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this one!

**Kurapika**

"Aaaah!!! Killua took the last  _ gyoza _ !!"

"Heh. I'm sorry, Gon. If only you'd been just a second faster, things would probably be different." Killua smirked with his mouth full, proudly munching on the last dumpling he had just snatched off the plate, beating Gon to it by just a tiny fraction of a second, their chopsticks clacking loudly against each other like they were wooden swords.

“No fair!!” Gon shouted, reaching out his hands to pinch Killua’s cheeks, but the silver-haired boy had exceptionally fast reflexes, Kurapika noticed. He dodged Gon’s impending assault easily, grinning naughtily the whole time. 

“You should have told me you wanted the last portion, dummy.” Killua caught Gon’s arms as a way to stop their playful punches. Gon was by no means weak, however, so the two boys squared off against each other, trading slaps that looked to be hard enough to leave a red mark, but they took zero notice of them, growling and occasionally giggling at each other like elementary school children. It baffled Kurapika to no end, really. Here were two teenagers who only knew each other for— good Lord— only about one and a half  _ hours, _ and yet they already looked so comfortable with each other like they’d already been the best and longest of friends. Kurapika remembered the ten-minute journey from DocTalk’s office to this restaurant— a  _ very  _ comfortable drive, albeit a little awkward, courtesy of Killua’s very sleek, very spacious Rolls-Royce complete with a stoically elegant, bespectacled older man wearing a formal suit as their chauffeur— in which the two boys had conversed with each other as easily as if they’d met each other at the kindergarten playground. Killua had told Gon about his family running one of at least the top five of the world’s tech giant companies, as well as the slightly nasty bits surrounding the Zoldyck name, like his father’s supposed backing of recent riots in some western countries, his mother’s dabbling with drugs, and his second eldest brother’s sexual assault scandal, to which Gon had listened without the slightest hint of judgment. The boy had even called Killua  _ cool,  _ probably for being somehow rebellious by venturing to work outside his family’s influence, without even thinking that Killua could have, in all probability, been involved in all those juicy underworld bits of the rich and powerful.  _ Bless the kid and whatever's going on in that spiky little head of his. _

Kurapika had read all of it before on the Internet, of course, so he had been more or less capable of keeping his face straight and not let his watchful eyes linger too long on Killua’s face, trying to discover this rich boy’s game. He’d felt a little protective towards Gon, since he’d known him for quite some time. The boy was a kind, cheerful person who always went out of his way to say hello to Kurapika every time he visited Leorio at the office, sometimes even bringing him biscuits or nuts from the vending machine as well as his high, buoyant spirit which, Kurapika had to admit, was a little contagious, and therefore useful, especially if he was facing work troubles. So, yeah— Kurapika had a soft spot for the kid. He didn’t really want him making friends with someone who seemed… troublesome. And a little scary, to be honest, with his sharp smirks and quick wits. 

That was why Kurapika had sort of understood why Leorio had seemed peeved during the whole car ride, his eyes closely glued to Killua’s every movement, with his brows furrowed and his knees occasionally jiggling, betraying his agitation and nervousness. Killua seemed to exude cold danger and distant, complicated realities, but to be honest, Kurapika could sort of understand that growing up and staying in  _ that  _ kind of environment, surrounded by money and power plays and being closely scrutinized— hell, even controlled, __ probably— as heir of the family, could very well make people do crazy things. Unreasonable things. That kind of shitty environment had incredible potential to wreck and mess up the minds of people who live in it and make them do whatever they think is right, even to their children. Especially to their children, who were sometimes born as products of twisted love, viewed from behind the glass of family honor and profitable investment. 

_ Trust me, I would know,  _ Kurapika had thought bitterly. 

But Leorio probably wouldn’t have known. The man was so easy to read, and he also tended to see everything as it appeared, and at the moment, Killua appeared like a bad decision. However, Kurapika also had an inkling that Leorio wouldn’t have the heart to forbid Gon from being friends with Killua, especially after Killua had looked shocked when Gon had asked him to dinner, like he’d been unable to believe that someone would actually want to spend time with him. All the boy’s stories about his family had also sounded a little like a test, a calculating measurement used to gauge the moment when Gon would decide to run away, that his new friend was bad news and weird as hell and obviously not deserving of his interest and support. But Gon had been nothing  _ but  _ interested and supportive to Killua, and Kurapika could see the prickly, thorny walls surrounding Killua collapse bit by bit, showing his adorably cheerful side more and more, although still very much cheeky and mischievous and rude.

Somehow, Kurapika sensed that Leorio could see that, too. That there was something else going on with Killua, something they couldn’t quite put their finger on yet. Something that showed itself in his calculatingly observant gaze, in his fast reflexes, in his chillingly confident air, in his widened eyes and creeping blushes whenever Gon threw him any kind of compliment. Something that horribly felt like past wounds and complicated family relations.

Something Kurapika could sympathize with, however much he would have liked to wish otherwise. 

He glanced to the side just then, and his eyes met Leorio’s. His brown eyes were warm, but tinged with a slight wariness and bewilderment, like he was asking him just what the hell he was supposed to do with this rapidly burgeoning friendship. 

Kurapika’s lips twitched a little, for he found Leorio’s expression quite funny. “Settle down, Leorio,” he whispered. “Those kids clearly just found a once-in-a-lifetime bond. Let them figure it out by being silly together.”

“That’s all well and good, Kurapika, but have you  _ seen _ what Killua is like? I’m glad Gon’s found a friend, really, because he just moved here not that long ago and he doesn’t yet have any close friends, neither from college nor from his hometown, but that boy and Gon couldn’t have been more different. It’s like he’s from another world altogether, and he probably is, with all that money, right? And he looks like he spells trouble with a capital T,” Leorio whispered back. “From what he’s told us, his family is bad news. I don’t want Gon involved in a dangerous, possibly illegal situation someday just because he’s close with a Zoldyck.”

“I don’t think he and Gon are that different, on the inside. You see, they fight and they laugh over the same stupid things. And even if they are different, I think you’ve heard the phrase ‘opposites attract’, haven’t you?” Kurapika answered as he took a sip of his ramen soup. “Besides, being a Zoldyck doesn’t necessarily mean that Killua will be a bad friend for Gon.”

“Yes, well, I get that.” Leorio speared a piece of pork with one half of his chopstick, which prompted Kurapika to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the obvious exhibition of bad table manners. “That’s why I haven’t said anything, you know? Despite being a snob and a brat, Killua somehow looks… a little lonely. And it’s clear that spending time with Gon makes him happy. So sue me, Kurapika, but I’m not gonna take any of that away from him.”

Kurapika stared at Leorio, his eyes big with realization. “You’re warming up to him,” he said, with a beginning of a smirk. “I bet your daddy urges are coming out right now, aren’t they? You’re starting to want to take care of him, give him a nice home and everything.”

“I am definitely  _ not  _ warming up to that rude brat.” Leorio sounded scandalized, even though a blush started to creep up his cheeks, and Kurapika smiled wider. “And I don’t have daddy urges. What the hell does that even mean??”

“Oh, you very clearly do. You worry all the time when Gon comes to the office late, or when he goes back home by himself. You fuss over him constantly, whether or not he’s eaten dinner, if he forgets to have lunch, if he forgets to turn in his assignment— oh, wait, that sounds more like  _ mommy  _ urges.” Kurapika laughed softly. He was feeling very relaxed, he realized to his surprise, and before he could overthink about that fact too much, he pushed it to the back of his mind. “I even once overheard you shouting at Gon’s real dad over the phone. You called him a ‘lousy motherfucker’, excuse the language, and you told him Gon is better off living with you anyway, that he doesn’t deserve to be Gon’s father. That you’ll do a far better job of taking care of him than he ever will.” Kurapika’s voice faltered at the end as he realized that the feeling blooming in his chest right then somehow felt so much like respect for this big-mouthed, messy, constant argument-seeking subordinate of his. He felt like he’d discovered a lot more things about Leorio during the course of this whole day than during the long months they’d worked together, things he’d usually been too preoccupied or too biased to notice, and surprisingly, he didn’t hate them. Not even a little bit.  _ Well, his work ethic might be a little questionable, but maybe he’s a decent human being. _

_ Come to think of it, today he seems to actually care a considerable amount about his work, too… Just less about company targets or performance reviews and more about the users. The… real people. _

_ I wonder if money’s not his only objective in working at DocTalk, even though he might act overjoyed every single month when payday comes. _

“That’s because his dad is a real jerk.” Leorio rolled his eyes, interrupting Kurapika’s musings. “Since Gon was born, he’s only been to see his son  _ one  _ time, and that was when he was fourteen. Every boy needs a father figure in his life, Kurapika, and I’ll be damned if I can’t be Gon’s, even if we’re already a little too late for that.” He slurped a mouthful of noodles noisily, clearly not caring about letting his emotions show. 

Kurapika was about to say something in response when he suddenly heard a choked scream from a nearby table. When he turned towards the sound, he saw a woman in her thirties with a shocked, panicked expression, frantically clutching the hand of a little girl. The girl was probably about six years of age, with dark hair and green eyes that were bright with tears. She was wearing a burgundy dress, its shade of red just a little darker than the blood flowing from the palm of her hand. “Mommy, it hurts,” she cried, burying her face in her mother’s blouse.

Kurapika’s eyes went wide. On the table, lying near the girl’s hands, there was a paper cutter nestled within a mess of colorful origami papers, its cold metal blade glistening with droplets of crimson. His mind clicked, noting the source of the girl’s injury, and branched out quickly towards possible solutions to the problem.  _ Staunch the bleeding. Ask a waiter if they have a first aid kit. Call an ambulance.  _

He was about to move towards the girl to help, but before he could even stand up, he realized that the chair beside him was empty. When he looked up again in confusion, he saw Leorio was already walking quickly in the direction of the girl and her mother, carrying his briefcase. He stopped in front of their table and addressed the mother, with a calm and reassuring smile. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I happen to know some first aid. Do you mind if I take a look at this young lady’s hand?” He turned and smiled at the girl, too, holding out his own hand, his palm open and inviting. “You got cut by this cutter, didn’t you, kiddo? That’s too bad, but it’s nothing we can’t fix,” he added, with a smile so warm and genuine it promised endless hope and relief. Kurapika saw the mother nodded to Leorio with wide, frightened eyes, then she turned to her daughter and offered her a worried smile. “Aria, darling, this good Brother is going to help you, okay? Will you let him see your hand?” She spoke in a soft tone, cradling the girl’s face in her hands and wiping her tears. 

“Will he take the pain away, Mommy?” The girl sniffled, glancing hesitatingly at Leorio. “It hurts, and I don’t like blood, I just want it to go away— “ She started to cry again, but then Leorio pulled up a nearby stool and plonked himself on it, all six foot four inches of him, and looked the girl in the eye. 

“I’m not gonna promise that I’ll make your pain go away, kid, but I can at least make the blood disappear. Do you want to help me do that? Because I can’t do it if you don’t help me.” He grinned, all boyish charm and positive charisma. He opened his briefcase and took out a medium-sized, navy blue pouch, and put it on the table. “You see this pouch?” said Leorio to the girl again. “This contains my magic tools, and I’m going to help you with them. We can’t let you be in pain for very long, can we? What do you say?”

The girl started to lean towards Leorio. “Is it really magic?”

“Of course it is.” Leorio nodded. “Don’t believe me? I suppose I’ll have to show you, then. Will you let me show you?”

The girl frowned a little, glancing back-and-forth between Leorio and the blue pouch, but after some time, she nodded, the promise of seeing magic with her own eyes seeming just too tempting to pass up. She held out her injured hand gingerly, and Leorio took it within his own, his touch warm and gentle. He then raised the girl’s hand slightly up and began pressing the wound softly with a piece of gauze he took out from his first aid pouch. Noticing the girl’s squirm, Leorio asked her, “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about that, but we need to do this if we want the blood to go away. I promise this won’t take long.” Leorio smiled. “By the way, kid, my name is Leorio. What’s yours?”

The girl looked up warily at him from under damp eyelashes. “I’m Aria.”

“Aria, is it? A pretty name. Like the kind of songs people sing at the opera.” Leorio winked. “You know what an opera is, don’t you, kid? Huge fancy hall, people singing and dancing— “

The girl nodded with growing eagerness. “I know! Mommy and Daddy took me to one in Italy, last summer.”

“That sounds wonderful. Did you enjoy it?”

“I did! The room was really, really big. And the music was loud, but all the singers wore pretty dresses and the lights are in all colors I don’t know and— “

Leorio kept making small talk with the girl for a few minutes more, looking genuinely interested in whatever she was telling him, distracting her from the pain and the blood that slowly soaked through the gauze. Kurapika watched it all unfold from his chair, feeling something start to grip his heart, something he couldn’t really put a name to. That something was filling him up with a soft, creeping warmth, forming buoyant clouds inside his mind, both dulling his senses and sharpening them until everything in the room seemed to be bathed in heavily saturated colors. It felt like a new realization as well as a simple acknowledgement of something he always knew, something he’d known for years already. Something that was both exciting and unsettling, like the proffered hand of a fairy prince; too surreal to conjure and too uncertain to touch. 

It surrounded him with interest and question marks and warning lights and everything in between.

He suddenly noticed Leorio walking past their own table, leading the girl by the hand, the mother trailing behind. He threw a casual smile in their direction and finally stopped beside Kurapika. “Hey, guys, just continue eating, alright? I’m bringing Aria to the bathroom to clean her wound. Aria, these are my friends: Kurapika, Gon, and Killua,” he said, gesturing to the three of them, one by one. “You wanna say hello?” he addressed Aria, to which the girl responded with a small smile and a little wave with her uninjured hand. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Gon exclaimed, turning around to face the little girl. “Don’t worry, Aria, Leorio knows what he’s doing. He’s a good doctor!”

Aria nodded, her smile growing bigger. “He is! And he knows magic, too. He makes my blood disappear!”

“That’s what he does!” Gon replied excitedly. “Ah, but he needs to clean your cut now, and then you’ll feel even better. Once you do, let’s play together!”

“Okay!”

“Leorio is a doctor?” Kurapika asked, brows furrowing in confusion as he watched Leorio walk away.  _ Last I checked, he’s still very much my stubborn engineer. Is he a doctor  _ **_and_ ** _ an engineer? What is he, an Asian mom’s dreamiest, most perfect son-in-law material? _

“He  _ was  _ a doctor, Kurapika,” Gon answered. “He graduated from med school. Didn’t you know?”

“I suppose I… don’t,” said Kurapika haltingly. He and Leorio had worked in the same team since they first joined the company, Leorio a few months earlier, but without much contact until Bisky had established what was now called Caduceus Pod and made Kurapika PM, and appointed Leorio as lead engineer. There hadn’t really been a reason for them to know each other’s educational background, and Kurapika had never been interested anyway. 

Well, until now.

Gon gave a short laugh. “I guess he didn’t really go around advertising that fact.”

“Huh. So that old man became a software engineer without a formal education?” Killua joined in, raising one of his eyebrows. “Interesting. He may be made from harder stuff than he looks.” 

“He did!” Gon beamed. “I heard he’s always tinkered with computers since his high school days, but as far as I know, he’s never had a formal background in coding and stuff. Because his main interest is in medicine.”

“So why isn’t he a doctor now?” Kurapika asked.

There was a silent pause, too long and too heavy to be unintentional. Gon was deliberately not looking at him, his eyes rapidly blinking. “Um, well— about that,” the boy laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You may need to ask Leorio himself. I— I don’t really know the full story.” He grinned, but the sides of his mouth were a little too tight for the smile to look innocent. “Anyway, I’m sure he’s just as good an engineer now as he was as a doctor!! Right, Kurapika?”

Kurapika found himself trading glances with Killua. The boy’s gaze was as confused as his own, but there was also an underlying loyalty towards his new friend there.  _ Move on,  _ it said.  _ Take the bait. Press him and I’ll make you regret it.  _

Kurapika gave a little sigh.  _ Fine. This is not a worthy battle, anyway. Why should I care about the reason why Leorio is or is not a doctor?  _ Clearly, this was an issue that Gon would not disclose, not even if he was pressed. And that meant whatever the reason for Leorio not becoming a doctor had been, it wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill boredom or life passion realized too late. It was a serious matter, probably sensitive in nature, and he didn’t really have the right to know, despite Leorio introducing him as one of his  _ friends.  _ They were, in all actuality, just two strangers brought together under a professional setting, trying to put up with each other however best they can, in the name of  _ teamwork  _ and  _ collaboration. _ They weren’t that close.

Even though after that night, there was a strange, small nagging, a blurred little star-shaped hope in the back of Kurapika’s mind that somehow wished that they were.

* * *

The next day, Kurapika was watching his laptop screen with eyes that were getting blearier by the second, his head swimming in numbers and broken words, when a young woman with long, bright blue hair done up in a high ponytail suddenly barged into the meeting room where he was taking refuge in, immediately chattering with a high, childish voice without even checking whether or not Kurapika was listening.

“Oh, Kurapika, you’re here! I've been looking for you everywhere! Listen, can I trouble you a bit? I need to pull some data from our latest marketing campaign, but I honestly can’t find the right tables…”

Kurapika swallowed back the annoyed sigh he’d been about to let out. The young woman was the  **VP** of Marketing, obviously an important person in the company that he’d do well not to antagonize. She was also the daughter of Light Nostrade, one of the biggest inventors of DocTalk who presided over board meetings every other month and steered the company’s direction, with or without a personal agenda tucked away under golden cufflinks. She wasn’t someone he could easily dismiss, no matter how much he thought her annoying and incompetent, no matter how much it was already an open secret that she was only there as a way for her father to oversee the company’s business more closely and gain even more power to orchestrate things behind the scenes. Kurapika didn’t ever want to know what those  _ things  _ were.

Unfortunately, Nostrade’s hidden agenda had roped him into dealing with the consequences; namely, being a kind of mentor-slash-foot-soldier for this spoiled princess who couldn’t even learn how to pull some simple data from the company’s  **data warehouse.** Kurapika pitied her a little, since it was clear that the girl’s heart and soul wasn’t cut out for all this tech work. He’d worked with her once, when he’d needed to publish some online content, and to his surprise, she was a decent content writer. But her language was also a little too flowery, with an adolescent feel to it, that Kurapika sometimes wondered if she wouldn’t be better suited writing a column in a teenage fashion magazine.

Anyway, that little project had been the beginning of this habit of hers: bugging Kurapika at his personal focus time because she was a real klutz when it came to programming, even though what she needed was just some really basic  **SQL** commands.

“Sure, Neon, what do you need?” Kurapika gave a tight smile, gesturing for the girl to come closer. Neon brightened at the invitation. She moved closer to the meeting room table, putting down her laptop beside Kurapika’s. “So, I need to find the voucher ID used in user consultations, but I can’t find the column in the consultation tables. What am I supposed to do then?” She whined a little, her hand playing with a pink pen she usually wore tucked behind her ear. “You’ll help me, right, Kurapika?” she added, almost fluttering her lashes.

If Kurapika hadn’t mastered the art of subtly rolling his eyes over the years of being surrounded by nosy relatives, overly demanding parents, and intellectually inferior peers, he would have had a hard time handling Neon. 

“Of course,” Kurapika replied.  _ God, I hope I don’t sound too judgy.  _ “That is a simple enough problem and we can fix it easily. You just need to join this table and another table which stores the column you want. Look, these are all the commands you need to type,” Kurapika demonstrated, typing with fast fingers on Neon’s keyboard. “I thought I’ve explained to you before about the concept of joining multiple tables?”

“Oh, really? I guess I forgot.” Neon laughed nonchalantly. “Going to you makes this all easier, though, so is there really any point in me remembering the heavy stuff I only need to use once in a while?” She winked. “Anyway, thanks, Kurapika! I’ll be going now.”

Kurapika watched Neon skip away out of the room without looking back, her ponytail swaying from side to side.  _ Must be nice being her,  _ he thought. Neon seemed to be the kind of person who thought that if she was nice to the world, the world would always be nice back to her. That there would always be someone who would help her and give her whatever she wanted if she only batted an eyelash or two. The miseries of life were incomprehensible to her, and she wouldn’t recognize cruelty even if it did a backflip right in front of her. Even if she was probably growing up right in the middle of it. Even if it was probably done in order to fulfill her wishes.

_ Now, where did that come from?  _ Kurapika chided himself, finally letting out the heavy sigh he’d been holding. Neon was not a bad person, and it wasn’t her fault if her heart wasn’t in her job, if she’d been brought up believing that the easy way was always the right way out.  _ I guess I’m just being a little too sensitive today.  _

He’d been a little moody since last night, he supposed, ever since he came home from that dinner with Leorio, Gon, and Killua. For some reason, he couldn’t quite get the scene where Leorio treated the injured little girl out of his mind. It was all burning before his eyes; every gentle touch, every unhesitating act, every genuine passion to help. And it was clear to him that Leorio had helped the girl just for the sake of helping, just because he’d wanted to help, not because he thought it would do anything to any aspect of himself. He hadn’t done it because he’d wanted to look good, or because he’d wanted to prove anything to anyone. He hadn’t even done it because he believed it was the right thing for him to do. He’d just done it in a split-second decision because he’d been actually concerned about the girl, and he’d looked to be enjoying it, so alive and thriving in his element it was a little dizzying to look at. It was a decision created out of genuine concern on behalf of  _ someone else’s wellbeing. _ It was pure and simple, with no ulterior motive, and it wasn’t something Kurapika saw very often.

It was a foreign concept to him, who up to this point, had done everything meaningful in his life just to satisfy his own inherent fear of failing to live up to his reputation as his family’s perfect little heir. That fear became the fuel that drove him to achieve all his family had ever wanted for him, that made him shun unimportant social situations and in turn deprive him of substantial friendships. It was the clay that he’d used to mold himself into what other people would like him to become, the marionette string he’d tied himself with so he could dance to the tune of other people’s wishes and expectations, just so he could avoid the brutal sting of their disappointment.

Kurapika always did things for other people, too, just like Leorio did last night, but that was where their similarities ended. 

Leorio was selfless where he was selfish. Leorio did things for other people to alleviate their hurt and make it better, whereas Kurapika did things for other people to protect himself from being hurt.

By always doing what he believed he should become according to other people’s standards, Kurapika had lost himself little by little over the years, until there were times when he felt as hollow and as fragile as a porcelain doll who was only there as a decorated trophy for other people to admire, forever silently reflecting the daydreams of the beholder, a celebrated figurine who in turn began to collect more literal decorated trophies for itself to fill the gaping hole in its core.

But with Leorio, it was astoundingly different. Doing things on behalf of someone else had made Leorio shine so bright, so full of life and warmth and positivity that being looked at by him was like sitting under a patch of sunlight in a darkened room, pleasant and inspiring with hope but also a little hurtful. It enriched him and made him his own person, who did things because other people deserved to receive whatever it was he had the capability to give.

At work, Kurapika always knew he and Leorio were different. Where Kurapika was meticulous and uptight, Leorio was sloppy and flexible, and this was what usually prompted their many arguments. But yesterday, for the first time in their turbulent relationship, Kurapika had felt that Leorio was actually better than what he’d initially thought, that he wasn’t some lazy worker who mostly just tagged along for the money but an earnest, competent person who actually cared about the things that really mattered about his work— although, yes, he still tended to disregard the little important details. And he also felt a little spark of understanding when he’d watched him helping the little girl— that here was another person who put as much value in how other people felt, probably at the cost of himself. But then the longer he’d watched, Kurapika felt simultaneously closer to and further away from Leorio, that the similarities he’d detected between them were too tightly enveloped with the thickest differences. And that exact feeling seemed to be both inviting him in and keeping him out, and it left him feeling lonelier and more alienated than ever.

Leorio was kind, and pure, and simple. He was  _ good, _ he could see that now, the kind of radiant goodness that drew people in, and Kurapika wanted to move closer to that light, to get to know it a little better every day, but he also knew that he didn’t deserve to, because if he did, what could  _ he  _ bring to the table? What could  _ he  _ do for Leorio? He didn’t have anything. He was empty, unworthy of love or friendship without his achievements, as devoid of inner passion as his many trophies and medals.

“Hey, excuse me, but this room is booked.”

Kurapika looked up. Through the glass walls of the meeting room, he could see a bunch of people loitering outside, led by a bald guy wearing an all-black training suit, who was the one that had just spoken to him. He was looking at Kurapika with a pair of slanting, sarcastic eyes and a confidently criticizing expression, like he thought hanging out in a booked-but-empty meeting room in a tech startup office was the highest offense of the law.  _ Well, sometimes it kind of was. But oh, come on, give me a break,  _ Kurapika groaned internally.

“It is, but you booked it from one to two PM. It’s already seven minutes past one now, so by our convention, this room is up for grabs,” Kurapika answered coolly, gesturing to the TV screen at the far side of the room which displayed the booked meeting schedule. “Your fault for not getting here on time. Maybe you can move your meeting to the pantry instead?” He gave a polite but cold smile, ready to fight if provoked. 

The bald guy blinked, incredulous, before anger set in, and he began ranting in a boastful tone. “Alright, blondie, I don’t know who you are, but why are you like this? I literally booked this room a week ago and I am  _ not  _ going to lose it to some rando who decides to swoop in at the last minute. I’m about to have a very important meeting, you know? It’s about the next app version! There is  _ so _ much to be talked about, and  _ you  _ don’t seem like you’re holding any meeting here, so why don’t you go back to your desk like a good boy and let us have the room, okay?!”

Kurapika gritted his teeth. “You could have a meeting with Cheadle herself and I still. Would not. Budge. I use this room almost every day, so I have as much right to it right now than you do.” That was all talk, Kurapika knew, but the guy didn’t need to know that.

“Oo–kay, who the hell do you think you are— “

All of a sudden, there was a genial laugh coming from behind the guy. “Hanzo! Hey, man, what’s happening here?”

The bald guy— Hanzo— turned around towards the voice. “Leorio. Fancy seeing you here. I’ll tell you what’s up, though. This guy just usurped my meeting room on the grounds of me and my team being just  _ seven  _ minutes late! It’s a very important meeting, and he’s alone, but he says  _ I’m _ the one who’s supposed to change room? Not happening. Can you help me talk to this guy? I  _ need  _ this room, man.”

Leorio took one look inside the room and gave a knowing grimace when he saw Kurapika. “Alright, boss, I’m sorry, but you need to get out of here.” He came closer to the table and bodily shoved Kurapika out of his chair, prompting an annoyed hiss from the blond.

_ "Boss _ ? So you know this guy, Leorio?” Hanzo sounded scandalized.

“I do. He’s my PM,” Leorio answered, then turned to hiss back at Kurapika. “You don’t just use meeting rooms when you know it’s  _ booked, _ Kurapika. Just how self-centered could you be?!”

“He’s  _ seven  _ minutes late, Leorio. You know that when someone doesn’t come into the room after five minutes have passed, then the room becomes fair play. It’s the  _ rule. _ ”

“Who gives a fuck about the rule?! Hanzo needs the room to hold an  _ actual _ meeting, not just to sulk and shut himself alone in here. Get your ass out of that chair. Now.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Kurapika knew he sounded like a petulant child just then, but he couldn’t muster the strength to care. “And I’m not sulking! Now you piss off and tell your friend to back down.”

“You’re sulking and you’re being irrational and you’re lashing out, and I know it’s because Bisky asked you to have the  **RFC** doc ready by  **EOD.** You  _ always _ do this, and it’s understandable, but for God’s sake, Kurapika, don’t bring other people into a disadvantage just because you can’t deal with tight deadlines like an  _ adult, _ ” Leorio whispered angrily. He closed Kurapika’s laptop lid hard enough to make a sound, then his hand were around Kurapika’s bare forearm, just under the folded sleeve of his blue sweater. His large, strong hand, with its long fingers and soft calluses, which felt remarkably steady and warm on Kurapika’s skin. “Now come with me and don’t make a scene,  _ please, _ or I swear to God I’ll carry you out of here myself,” Leorio added.

Kurapika gulped involuntarily, suddenly feeling very flustered. An image of himself being slung over Leorio’s broad shoulder began swimming inside his mind, and it half-horrified, half-excited him. It was that moment of weakness which made him unconsciously allow Leorio to drag him out of the room, laptop and all, with profuse smiles and apologies to Hanzo. The latter seemed happy with how the scene turned out in the end, accepting Leorio’s apologies graciously. The two guys even promised to grab drinks together sometimes.  _ Seriously, how does Leorio do it?  _ Kurapika mused. He seemed to always know how to handle people, finding friends even in the remotest corner of their shared world, whereas Kurapika sometimes got confused on how to act in front of Pairo, and he’d known the guy almost all his life. Maybe some people were just born with that gift.

Leorio was still dragging him by the arm towards the elevators, and Kurapika finally mustered enough brain cells to stop him. “Wait, Leorio, stop, I don’t want to go back to my desk,” he said, wrenching his arm free, almost mourning the loss of that steady pressure.

Leorio stared at him. “Why not?”

“Because it’s really noisy there. Knuckle laughs like a train horn and I can’t even hear myself think. And if I can’t hear myself think, I definitely can’t produce any work results good enough to be submitted to anyone,” Kurapika hissed. “Why did you even interfere, back there? I could have handled the situation on my own.”

“Oh, really?” Leorio narrowed his eyes. “I think by ‘handling the situation’, what you really meant is being crazily obstinate that Hanzo would have backed down only to report you to HR. And then Bisky would know about it, the whole team would know about it, maybe even Mizai would know about it. And I just knew that Chrollo would use it to drag you down. Is that what you want, Kurapika? Because if it is, then be my guest.”

“You know what, I am pleasantly surprised that you can actually think things through, Leorio. But I have gotten out of tighter situations, and I know more about how to bend office politics to my will than you do. So, just worry about yourself, alright?”

“I  _ can’t  _ just worry about myself, you dimwit!” Leorio wrung his hands upwards, exasperated. “If you’re always running around antagonizing everyone you meet and looking for trouble, what do you think will happen to our tools and projects if you get sacked? They’ll probably break apart, and where does that leave our users, who have come to rely on our allocation system to search for trusted doctors and healthcare services? And where does that leave  _ you, _ with your workaholic tendencies and unhealthy need to be perfect all the time? Do you wanna go back to your loaded dad, maybe marry some little heiress, and live happily ever after, traveling the world? Because I don’t think that’s what you want.”

“How do you  _ possibly _ know what I want?” Kurapika laughed bitterly. Okay, Leorio’s words had hit him a little too close to home. Although he’d never admit it to anyone, Kurapika knew that he’d been short-sighted, driven and misdirected by his own selfish need to find a quiet place to work in, which was such a small, laughable reason, without thinking of the consequences, and he could see that now. That little scene with Hanzo was definitely not his proudest moment.  _ But must Leorio throw it all to my face in the bluntest way possible?  _ Kurapika seethed. Out of all his subordinates, Leorio was the only one who ever had the audacity to challenge him in every step of the way. He questioned everything and accepted nothing without a fight. He refused to do any embellishment that he thought didn’t serve any purpose. He barreled his way into any problem and created shortcuts, and Kurapika had to always be the one who rein him in. 

Kurapika hadn’t realized that sometimes,  _ he  _ was the one who needed reining in.

And that little part about going back to his loaded dad? That was true. That was what his family eventually wanted from him,  _ after this little tech dream of his has run its course,  _ and it was the one thing, the only thing he was never sure he’d do for them. 

Maybe all those arguments had made Leorio know him better than he’d realized.

“How could you possibly know what I want, Leorio?” Kurapika repeated, his voice as brittle and cold as the day he'd touched his first snow at his family’s Aspen cabin, where he’d cried only to find out that his tears had been even colder. “You don’t know me. You don’t know  _ anything  _ about my life. Stop acting like you knew me, like we’re friends or anything, because we’re not.” He made the last word sound so sure, so final, even as it knocked the breath out of him, even as it deadened the footsteps of that little hope inside his mind that always longed for human connection. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath, certain that when he opened them again, Leorio would be gone already. Because this was what he did. When he detected that someone had unknowingly taken a little real glimpse of himself, he lashed out. He made them feel bad, and showed them the exit door, and made sure that he didn’t leave a trail of breadcrumbs that could lead them back. Then he walled himself in— his prideful, selfish, uncaring self— and only went out when he’d donned his polite, capable, high-achieving golden mask. 

He told himself that it was easier that way, that people would run anyway once they saw him for who he really was— just a scared, spoiled little child who hogged not just the blanket but also the crumbs of love people left him when they were sure that he wasn’t a failure.

But Leorio didn’t run away.

He just continued staring at him with eyes like hardened honey, and when he finally spoke, it wasn’t the rebuke Kurapika expected.

“Alright, Kurapika, that’s enough. I think you need to have this before you say anything else.”

He pulled something out from his pocket, and he pushed it into Kurapika’s hand. It was a protein bar, complete with chocolate and peanut butter. 

“What?”  _ Is this a joke _ ? Kurapika stared at it, then at Leorio’s very straight, very serious face. “What’s this?”

“It’s a protein bar. Goodness, Kurapika, I thought you read.”

“I  _ know  _ it’s a protein bar, you idiot— what I meant was what is this— situation? Why are you giving this to me?”

“You haven’t left that meeting room since before lunchtime. Which means you haven’t had lunch yet. And when you don’t eat, you become ten times more unreasonable than usual. So, there. Eat it. I’m tired of being your punching bag whenever your blood sugar drops.”

Kurapika was quiet, still processing Leorio’s words, although a sort of heat was starting to press inside him, making his heart feel full, flooding it with feelings he didn’t understand.  _ That was… surprisingly thoughtful of him.  _ Now that Leorio had brought it up, he realized he  _ was  _ a little hungry.

He unwrapped the bar and bit it, letting the chocolate coat his senses. It was sweet, and Kurapika didn’t usually care for sweet things, but somehow he found that he couldn’t stop. A minute had scarcely passed before he’d devoured more than half of it.

“Feeling better?”

Kurapika nodded, a little shyly. “Thank you, Leorio. And— for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

He bit back a laugh, although he was feeling ashamed of how irrational he was being earlier. Leorio’s reaction was— baffling, to say the least. Who in their right mind would answer bitter words with sweet attention? Leorio answered his distance and his sharp thorns with gentle understanding that probed deeper, and it wasn’t something Kurapika was used to expecting from anyone. Except maybe Pairo, but that was different. Kurapika didn’t understand why Leorio, of all people, would treat him with care and consideration, especially after they’d just traded sharp jabs and raised voices.  _ Why me? Why now? How does a person like him exist? Is the sole reason for his existence just to confuse me? How does he make me angry one second and confused-yet-touched the next? Why is he like this? Why am I like this? _

_ Why is he able to make me feel a lot more emotions in just one conversation than my entire life experience combined? _

The more Kurapika thought about it, the more he couldn’t make sense of it, and he hated not being able to make sense of something. Leorio hadn't known him as long as Pairo had, but the more they spent time with each other outside of work setting, the more Kurapika felt that he was familiar, that every word they exchanged was familiar and that they’d done all this before, all this fighting and arguing and rejecting each other only to come together again in the end, like all this was a long-forgotten waltz that they somehow still knew the steps to. It was illogical, Kurapika knew, but still. Last night was the first time they hung out outside of work, and it felt less like getting to know Leorio and more like rediscovering him.

There were also a lot of other things he would like to say other than  _ I’m sorry _ —things like  _ I didn’t mean any of what I said before, I would like you to know me better, I would love it if you wanted to be my friend—  _ but Kurapika just let the apology stay as short as it was, the words dissolving on his tongue, hopelessly wishing on a distant star that Leorio would understand it anyway. He’d never been good at words, at saying how he really felt, and he’d lost count of the days he wished for someone who would be able to catch all the unsaid feelings and listen to the things he didn’t dare put into words. A wish he was sure would never be realized anyway.

A wish he couldn't help but make, right this moment, amidst this glass forest of brainstorms created out of young minds, again and again and again.

“Think nothing of it.” Leorio shrugged. “Now, I know a secluded space that you can work quietly in. You know those corner booths on the fourth floor’s west wing? I think I spied an empty one on the way here. Just pray no one’s taken it yet.”

“Sounds good,” Kurapika assented. Then, in a rare occurrence of split-second decision: “You know what? That actually sounds perfect. Let’s go and see it.”

“Wait, you want me to come with you?”

“Why not? Maybe you can even help me put in some technical details in the doc. As long as you promise not to be loud.”

Leorio snickered. “Asking me not to be loud is like asking the Red Queen not to off with someone’s head, you know. I’m going to introduce you to my whole collection of Spotify playlists, just you wait and see.”

“An Alice in Wonderland reference! I’m amazed you know literature, Leorio. Wonders never cease.”

“Hey, don’t you go all pretentious on me! I may not be a prep school graduate like you, but I  _ know _ things!”

“Of course you do, dodo bird.”

_ "What  _ did you just call me?!”

* * *

“Pika, you ready to go home yet?”

Kurapika looked up from his laptop screen to find Pairo smiling eagerly at him. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he answered. “Give me five minutes, okay? I need to share this doc to Bisky first.”

“Aw, come oooon, Pika! It’s been a day full of meetings for me and all I want right now is to watch the newest season of The Good Place in my pajamas.”

Kurapika laughed. “Let me guess. With some macadamia nut ice cream?”

“With some macadamia nut ice cream.” Pairo nodded. “So come on, be quick about it.”

“Alright, alright, I’m done.” Kurapika clicked the  _ Share  _ button and then closed his laptop, proceeding to tidy up everything else on his desk. He was just putting down his notebook inside his bag when he accidentally glanced at Leorio’s laptop screen in front of him, or what was visible of it from behind the owner’s back. It was the home page of what looked to be a hospital’s website, dominated in shades of blue, with a three-letter logo at the left corner. USZ.

Kurapika narrowed his eyes. Why was Leorio looking at the University Hospital of Zurich’s website?

Was someone he knew ill? Was it Gon?

Oh, God, what if it was Leorio himself who was ill?

Or, wait— was he thinking to pursue his medical career back? In Zurich?

A voice inside his mind whispered,  _ What a coincidence. _

But another voice whispered back,  _ What coincidence? If he’s moving there, good for him.  _

_ You’re not moving there. You’re never moving there, are you, Kurapika? _

_ Because you’re a coward. _

Kurapika shook his head a little, dismissing the thought.  _ It’s not my problem.  _ If Leorio really wanted to put aside his engineering job and change career tracks, then he’d support his decision, as his superior. It had nothing to do with him and his own buried dreams. It had nothing to do with how he wished he could also have had the courage to find his own way in the world without his insecurities catching up. And it had nothing to do with how much it reminded him of the life he’d always envisioned for himself; a life free from judgment and expectations, a life where he only played the real, solid role of himself, a life where he put his greatest failures on display and still had someone welcome him home and love him anyway.

“Pika, are you okay? You’re staring into space.”

Kurapika blinked. “I— Yes, sorry. I’m fine. I was just— thinking of some numbers I might have calculated wrongly. I might have to double-check my work later.” He smiled, although his eyes were the color of mist, devoid of anything other than low-simmering anxiety and resignation. “It’s fine, Pairo. Come on, let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **GLOSSARY**
> 
> **VP**
> 
> Vice President.
> 
> **Data Warehouse**
> 
> Central repositories of integrated data from one or more disparate sources.
> 
> **SQL**
> 
> Structured Query Language, the standard language for storing, manipulating and retrieving data in databases.
> 
> **RFC**
> 
> Request for Comments. A document typically used in startup companies to describe methods, behaviors, research, or innovations related to a modelling or analysis project. It is submitted either for peer review or to convey new concepts and information.
> 
> **EOD**
> 
> End of Day, signifying the end of a work day. Typically at 6 or 7 PM.


	4. Lyra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love blooms amidst increasingly stressful work days. New things are being discovered between our couple, but a new deadline is also getting set. At the end of the day, Leorio makes an interesting discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! This chapter is all about light-hearted fluff and playful banters, with just a liiitle bit of angst-induced bonding at the end. This one is my favorite chapter to write so far, like seriously, I got so much serotonin just by writing this and I really, really hope that some of it managed to trickle out to you guys as well. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Thanks for giving this a click!
> 
> Edit: I feel like I have to tell you guys that I _might_ take a longer time in posting the next chapters for this fic because I'm also working on a new one for HxH Big Bang 2021 (yay!). However, I will try my best to still adhere to the 'one month one chapter' goal I've set for myself hehe but just in case I fail in doing so, I want to apologize in advance. (I'm still going to try not to, though!! I'm going to try really hard!! Wish me luck!!)
> 
> I hope you'll keep looking forward to the next updates! See you soon!

**Leorio**

Another Monday dawned bright and early, and then with what felt like a blink, another came to replace it. And then another. Then another. And another, until six more Mondays had passed since the daily standup that kicked off DocTalk’s most important project of the quarter. Leorio’s days were filled with reading tech journals until his eyes watered from morning to night, doing **data pre-processing** and **feature engineering** with the help of Knov’s DS engineers, and a never-ending cycle of **CI/CD** tests that sometimes made him want to vomit. This goddamned ML model had forced him to arrive at the office at nine in the fucking morning and go home at an ungodly hour of the night that he wouldn’t even specify because it was such a far cry from his previously typical eleven to six-thirty work day. He rarely even talked to Gon anymore, even though their bedrooms were only separated by literally a single wall. Every night, he went home only to shower and watch some Youtube videos before passing out in bed and waking up only to do it all over again. Even his dreams were sometimes filled with crazy work-related things, like being chased by metal godzillas wearing all his wrong and buggy codes like a second scaly skin. Absolutely terrifying.

 _And if I already feel myself turning into a workaholic,_ Leorio sometimes thought, _I shudder to think just what in hell’s name this godforsaken project is doing to my already trigger-happy PM._

It was not a very pretty sight, let’s all just leave it at that.

Every day, when Leorio trudged into a still-empty office at a too-early hour, Kurapika was already perched on some secluded desk he passed on his way in— sometimes near the window, sometimes in the floor’s furthest corner— with his hair bunched into a small messy knot that somehow still looked annoyingly stylish, like those _I woke up like this_ posts of _Instagram_ models. During the day, he would literally run around in the corridors and even the emergency stairs, forsaking the elevators and its sometimes long queue in order to get to meetings faster. He would usually emerge from those meetings looking more and more drawn, the dark shadows under his eyes more pronounced, despite the increasing amount of mugs littering his desk, ones containing pitch-black coffee that he would chug before every meeting like they were vodka shots. And he would still remain around when Leorio went home in the evenings, notebooks open and shirt collar undone, staring at his laptop like he could burn a hole through the screen. Leorio didn’t even know if Kurapika even _ate_ anymore. The guy looked like he was able to power through using just a combination of caffeine, adrenaline, and cortisol.

Which was why Kurapika’s lunch invitation to Leorio came to him like a shot through the night.

“Leorio, have you had lunch?” Kurapika asked him one Tuesday afternoon, thirty minutes after their daily standup had concluded. Leorio was swamped by a mountain of tasks as a result, and he’d been glued to his laptop screen while all his other colleagues went to lunch or to the smoking area. 

He looked up to find their work area mostly deserted. “Um, no, I haven’t. I’m still debugging the error we discussed earlier,” he answered. “What’s up, boss?”

“You want to grab lunch with me? Just something quick. Maybe the bagel place down the street?” Kurapika offered. “I have something I need to discuss with you.”

“Uhhhh— Sure, fine, okay.” Leorio pushed up his glasses and stood up. “Should I bring my laptop?”

“No need. We’ll use mine. Let’s go.”

* * *

“Okay, let me get this straight.” Leorio sat back, the bagel stall’s white plastic chair stretching precariously under the weight. “So what you want to discuss is the _color scheme_ of this bar chart?”

“Yes.” Kurapika nodded, his eyes round and straightforward. “I was thinking blue-green, but then red-green feels more intuitive, although the former looks better. What do you think?”

 _I really, really couldn’t care less,_ Leorio thought, but he couldn’t very well say it if he still wanted to keep his job. Besides, Kurapika looked like he earnestly needed a second opinion, his eyes anxiously darting between the two different-colored bar charts, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. _He really puts a lot of thought into the little details. Well, I guess it’s an admirable trait._ Leorio put on his thinking face and chose the one his eyes liked best. “Mmm— let’s go with blue-green, I guess?”

Kurapika hummed. “Good choice. That’s what I was going for, too. This shade of blue looks particularly nice, don’t you think?” he added with a small smile, his eyes only holding Leorio’s for a moment before turning back to his laptop screen and began fiddling with the trackpad.

“Yeah, it looks good.” Leorio found himself staring a little too long at Kurapika, at the way the afternoon sunlight danced along his profile, darkening one cheek and lighting up the other, accentuating his pert nose and plump little mouth. At the way his earring turned and sparkled at the lightest movement of his head, its glare the color of roses. At the way his stiff collar peeked from under the lapels of his light, stylish cream blazer, hugging the back of his graceful neck, the off-white fabric embroidered by little intertwined powder-blue flowers like porcelain patterns. _Come to think of it, Kurapika often does have splashes of blue on his person somewhere. And damn, does it look great on him._

Before he knew it, he had blurted out a question. “Is blue your favorite color, Kurapika?” 

Kurapika turned his head slowly and blinked, a question swimming inside his eyes. “Yes,” he said, a little cautiously. “How did you know?”

“Oh, you know— just a guess.” Leorio scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It’s just— I noticed you often have blue things on you.” _Damn it, I sound like a creep._ “Not— not that I was paying attention, alright? It’s just something I noticed. Yeah. Something I noticed, like, in passing,” he added, his hand doing some frantic gestures he was sure made him look like a very bizarre puppet master. “Anyway, I’m sorry, I don't mean to pry. I didn’t know where that came from. Never mind my silly question.” 

To his surprise, Kurapika laughed. “It’s okay, Leorio, it’s not silly. Not at all. And you don’t need to look so flustered.” He bit his bagel sandwich, slowly licking bits of cream cheese left on his bottom lip. The sight of which Leorio kept insisting gave no pounding sensation to his heart and stomach and everything else, none whatsoever. “You’re right, blue is my favorite color. Midnight blue is the shade I like best, like in this bar chart.” The corner of his lips quirked a little, and his eyes adopted a slightly faraway look, the vulnerable light inside them drawing Leorio in. “And you know what, I like it because— even though it’s a cool color, it makes me feel warm inside. It reminds me of the night sky, of the time of day when most people’s problems take a back seat when they are asleep. It makes me feel— safe.” He shrugged, then gave a little dismissing laugh as though he hadn’t just shared something personal to Leorio, who a few mere weeks ago wouldn’t even have thought that he would be sharing anything with his boss other than a shouting match. 

Leorio, on the other hand, soon found that this was something he suddenly couldn’t get enough of.

He still remembered the way Kurapika had lashed out at him a few weeks earlier after that little spat with Hanzo. How he had looked more lonely than angry, more sad than insulted. How he’d apologized to him with that blunt, earnest way of his that he kept finding more and more often these days, erasing the prideful, uptight, arrogant image of him embedded inside Leorio’s mind and replacing it with the realness of someone who was quick to forgive and even quicker to apologize. Someone who consciously, constantly made an effort to stand on equal grounds with him even though he didn’t really have to.

Kurapika was still a pain in the ass, sometimes, sure, but he’d opened up more, even invited Leorio to join him when he wanted to barricade himself inside some meeting room or other secluded booths to work. On occasions where Leorio accepted the invitation, he found that he didn’t hate it. Not at all. Not even a little bit. 

_Dios mio, are my boss and I actually friends now?_

“You must be thinking I’m the one who’s silly now for seeing a _color_ that way. That I romanticize things way too much.” Kurapika sighed, breaking Leorio out from his reverie. “Honestly, what was I thinking, telling you those nonsense? Please forget what I said. I don’t know what came over me.”

“What? No, Kurapika, not at all!” Leorio was suddenly afraid of the possibility that Kurapika would never share any of those personal musings to him again. “Now _I’m_ telling _you,_ it’s not silly. I take too much meaning out of trivial things all the time too, if you must know.”

Kurapika raised his eyebrows. Even that little movement was graceful, making Leorio suddenly want to groan.

“Like what?” Kurapika asked.

"Well— sometimes I see a leaf being blown around in the wind and feel sad because it's probably being moved against its will," Leorio began. "Sometimes I like to sleep at night with my door partially open because it makes me feel less alone. Sometimes I see a red rose tree and I'm reminded of Beauty and The Beast. Like if I were to pluck just one of the roses, the Beast would come out and throw me in his dungeon." Kurapika scoffed at that, and Leorio laughed softly. "Let's see, what else— oh, I also love handwritten letters with a passion,” Leorio blurted out, before he could lose his nerve. “I still write them sometimes, you know. Real letters, with stamps and everything."

"Really?" Kurapika asked with a disbelieving stare. "To whom?"

"Mostly to my brother and sisters, or to my aunts and uncles. Ironic, I know, seeing how I’m a software engineer who’s supposed to be all high-tech and stuff, and we all know our country’s postal service is sometimes less than ideal, but still— I do it. I love it.” He laughed at Kurapika’s bewildered look. “If you don’t believe me, remind me to show you some of my family’s letters sometime."

"Why do you love it?"

Leorio turned to find Kurapika actually looking interested, fixing him with a curious stare that held no hint of judgment. "Well, okay, if you must know— I love writing letters because to me, it feels more— permanent, somehow. I know it’s irrational, because even a child can tell you that digital traces are far harder to remove than words scrawled on paper. Letters can be burned, torn apart, even dissolved in water, but I still feel that it has a more lasting effect of whatever you wrote on them. It’s like it’s embedded onto a tangible thing, something you can hold with your hand, and when it reaches your intended recipient, it will then be held by them, too, and you share that indirect touch.” Leorio shrugged, smiling a little shyly. “Call me sentimental, but I love the act of pouring out my thoughts with the hopes that they can actually be touched, not just read, by someone else who lives in a different time and space. It makes me feel like— like I actually make a difference in that someone’s life.”

Leorio stopped talking long enough to watch the beginning of Kurapika’s smile. It unfurled like an early spring in a land that knows no winter, like something that he didn’t know he needed but one he suddenly craved. “That was— beautiful. I like the way you make it sound," Kurapika said. "And I agree, actually, that handwritten letters can be more meaningful. It's a shame it's now considered a dying art. Thank you for telling me that, Leorio."

"Anytime, boss. Don't be so formal."

Kurapika snorted. "Anyway. You have brothers and sisters?” 

“I’m the eldest of four. After me, there’s Isabella, she’s the artist of the family. She’s a professional painter and she manages a small gallery downtown. After her are Sofia and Lorenzo, who are still in college. They’re twins.”

“Your house must have been lively, growing up.”

“Oh, very. Just imagine the headache we all gave our _abuela,_ God bless her soul.”

“You were raised by your grandmother?”

“Yep.” Leorio nodded. “My parents died in a car accident when I was fourteen. Oh, don’t be, it’s already so long ago.“ Leorio waved away Kurapika’s offered condolences. “My grandmother took us in, with the help of several aunts and uncles. It was very chaotic, but I loved growing up there.” He chuckled. “Do you have siblings too, Kurapika?”

“No. I’m an only child.” Kurapika said. “By the way, I think you already made a lot of difference in many people’s lives, Leorio,” he added, his tone low and soft with a little wondering tone, like he was remembering something. “Even without sending them letters. You should never forget that.”

Leorio felt his face getting hot. “Yeah, well— let’s hope you’re right.”

“You know I’m always right.” Kurapika winked, the aftermath of which reverberated deep inside Leorio’s chest. “Anyway, Leorio, seeing how you were so flustered earlier after asking me about my favorite color, I guess I want to let you know that— um, that I know I’m a private person, and I may give off this aura of— coldness? Aloofness? You know, something that warns other people that I may bite if they try to get too close?” he added, his hand playing with the empty wrapper of his bagel. “I’m not going to tell you that it’s wrong, that I’m actually a warm and sunny person— don’t laugh, you idiot.” He slapped Leorio’s forearm playfully. “What I _am_ going to tell you is— well— I will try not to let that side of myself come out too often. And I apologize, for, um— everything, basically. I apologize for calling you a money whore. And I apologize for lashing out when you just want to help me. I will try not to let it happen again.” He bowed his head once, then stole a glance at Leorio from under his eyelashes. “Am I forgiven?”

Leorio stared at his PM. Blinked a few times. Even pinched himself on the base of his thumb to check if he was dreaming. It hurt, so the dream hypothesis just went out the window.

“Leorio?”

“Right, right, yes!” Leorio shook his head to clear it, finally accepting that this was really happening, that a cordial relationship between him and his boss was really beginning, after a careful tending of its seeds during the previous weeks. “Yes, Kurapika, of course you’re forgiven. As long as you forgive me, too. God knows I’ve said a lot of hurtful things to you, too.”

“Not that much. And I’ve already forgotten most of it, anyway.” Kurapika smiled. “Great, then. Don’t walk on eggshells around me anymore, okay? Just be however you’d like to be around your friends.”

“Right. Friends. Okay.” Leorio smiled back, still a little tentatively. “I take it you’re alright with me thinking of you as my friend now?”

A pause, so thick and fragile Leorio felt like he could prick it with a needle, before Kurapika answered:

“That’s right. I am.”

* * *

The lunches became a regular thing, after that. It was just a convenient choice, at first, since Kurapika sometimes needed to discuss things with his lead engineer after standup, and it made sense to continue their discussions over lunch. But as the days folded into weeks, Kurapika somehow became a permanent staple in Leorio’s lunch break. Sometimes they were joined by other people, too. Melody, Basho, Knuckle, Phinks, Machi, even Killua, who surprised Leorio with the fact that their rich-boy intern had a taste for Jannea’s greasy street food.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Killua narrowed his eyes at Leorio. He had been happily munching on a deep-fried egg, rolled and skewered on a stick, when he noticed Leorio’s dumbfounded eyes on him. They were walking back to the office one cloudy Wednesday afternoon, after just having lunch at a busy side street which was dotted with street food stalls of various kinds, selling everything from chicken satays and fish dumplings showered in peanut sauce to deep-fried egg rolls and vegetable-stuffed tofus. Leorio, Kurapika, and Killua had just come out from under the blue tarp of a stall’s awning, where the latter had bought five fat sticks of greasy, heavily MSG-ridden egg rolls with lots of side sauce.

“If you want a bite, pops, you can just ask,” Killua said. “Doesn’t mean I’ll give you one, though.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Leorio replied. “Just wondering what your parents would say if they could see you eating those right now.”

“I don’t give a single damn.” Killua laughed. “Gon bought me these when we went to the National Museum last weekend. I was skeptical, at first, but turns out they are quite tasty.” He dipped one egg skewer into its plastic bag, drowning it in a pool of bright-red spicy sauce, before pulling it out again and taking a big bite. He hummed in appreciation. “Mmm. You sure you don’t want one? What about you, Kurapika?”

Leorio laughed out loud at Kurapika’s disgusted expression. “Yeah, Kurapika, why don’t you try one? Think of it as _hors d'oeuvre._ ” He pronounced it like _whore duvet._

Kurapika laughed, spontaneous and without restraint, while Killua looked on in horror. “It’s _hors d’oeuvre,_ Leorio,” he corrected, speaking the right pronunciation. “And no, that is most definitely not an appetizer. It’s just junk food in the worst, unhealthiest way possible. So, no, I don’t want one, thank you.”

“You actually understand the gibberish this weirdo said, Kurapika? I applaud you.” Killua rolled his eyes. “Imagine not being able to pronounce a common food term like _hors d’oeuvre._ ”

“Oh, shut up, you snooty motherfucker,” Leorio deadpanned.

Kurapika laughed again. He had a musical laugh, like the silvery tinkling of Christmas bells. And even though all their work and their stress just kept piling day after day, somehow Leorio heard Kurapika laugh more and more often recently. And from the look which Melody was giving them from her position beside Phinks and Machi a few paces in front, Leorio was not the only one who’d noticed.

“By the way, pops, is Gon coming here again today?” Killua asked, seemingly trying to keep his voice sounding nonchalant. “You rarely go home with him now, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s because I often have to work overtime these days,” Leorio answered. “Why? You miss him?”

“I — What — Of, of course not!” Killua spluttered, his cheeks and ears turning pink. “I was just simply— you know, making observations. That’s all. Not important. Definitely not important. He can come here every day or don’t come here at all and I won’t know the difference. Moving on, please. Speaking of which, Kurapika, can we have a **one-on-one** today?”

Leorio stared at him for a few seconds, all while Kurapika was too busy laughing beside him to give a coherent answer. “Oh my God, you miss him,” he said in realization. “You met him last weekend and you already miss him. Kurapika, I think our intern here has a crush.”

“No I do not!!!”

“Killua, dear, your blush says otherwise,” Leorio said with a laugh. “Dear God, I had my suspicions, but I didn’t really think I’m right.”

Having curbed his laughter mostly under control, Kurapika continued sipping the iced coffee he’d bought at their lunch place earlier. “Right about what?” he asked.

“That Killua’s gay. Don’t worry, _amigo,_ we support everyone in this workplace. You won’t find any mistreatment here.”

Killua was blushing furiously now. “I’m going to forget that you just outed me in front of everyone, Leorio. And how can _you_ be so sure, anyway?” he hissed. “You look every inch a dudebro, just not white.”

“Correction: _not_ in front of everyone, because I only spoke to Kurapika and our other friends are not within hearing distance. And you can actually count on me being so sure, Killua, because I’m not straight either. And— I’m sure you’ll appreciate this bit of information— neither is Gon.”

Beside Leorio, Kurapika choked, dark rivulets of iced coffee spraying the pavement they were walking on. “Leorio,” he gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re not— I mean— You’re—”

“Gay? Yes, I am. Well, I’m bi, technically,” Leorio said casually. “But all my serious relationships in the past have been with men.”

“Why am I only just finding out about this?” Kurapika looked at him with an unreadable expression. He clutched the plastic cup of his coffee more tightly, as if his hand would tremble if he didn’t. 

“Well, you never asked. But I never make it a secret. Just ask Melody and Basho, or Phinks, Feitan, and Knuckle. They all know.” Leorio shrugged. “And if you followed me on _Instagram_ , you would have seen me liking Timothée Chalamet’s pictures almost religiously.”

Kurapika let out a strangled laugh. “So that’s your type?”

“Eh, I have a lot of types. What about you, boss?” Leorio asked, in a burst of airy courage. “Gal Gadot or Chris Evans?”

“Neither,” Kurapika said. “I choose Justin Baldoni.”

They stared at each other for a while, the air thick with understanding. Leorio looked away at the end of it, smiling for reasons he didn’t quite know. “I see. So. You like your men the way you like your suits, huh? Slim, stylish, packing a tight fit, and Italian.”

Kurapika burst into a loud laugh. “Something like that, yes.”

“You know what, I’m one-quarter Italian from my mother’s side.” Leorio grinned as he watched Kurapika’s reaction. When he saw that his PM was desperately curling his lips in an attempt to stop a newly-formed smile, his heart made a funny leap inside his chest. “Just thought you should know,” he added.

“What a nice bit of trivia, Leorio. I’ll keep that in mind.”

It only hit Leorio later, when he was alone on one of the third floor's sleek bathroom stalls, just how easily he had flirted with his boss.

* * *

“Leoo–rioo! Are you done yet?”

The next evening, Gon bounded into the third floor’s large work area, weaving among the rows of desks and skidding to a stop beside Leorio’s. “Oh, hello, Kurapika! Can Leorio go home yet?” he said to Kurapika by way of greeting, who, for once, was sitting at his designated desk in front of Leorio.

“That’s not my call to make, Gon.” Kurapika smiled. “If he’s finished his work for the day, then he can go home.”

“Oooh, I see! Then please tell me you’re finished, Leorio!”

“I wish I could, buddy.” Leorio sighed. “Truth is, I still have two more **cross-validations** to do, and if I don’t finish them tonight, then we’re not gonna have an update to give on our weekly Tech + **Ops** meeting tomorrow.” He took off his glasses and let it fall on his desk with a soft clatter, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, _chiquito,_ but you should have told me you were coming here _before_ you rode on the MRT. Do you want me to order you an Uber, or— “ He let his eyes roam around the room, and they fell on a silver-haired boy who was not-so-covertly stealing glances in their direction. “Or... Maybe you can catch a ride with Killua instead? I think he’ll be going home soon.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Gon brightened. “I just found out recently that he lives not too far from us, Leorio! Only about twenty minutes away by car. I’m gonna ask him now.” He then ran towards Killua’s desk, beaming all the way up to the greenish tips of his hair. “Hey, hey, Killua!”

“Hey, Gon. What’s up?” Killua smiled at Gon from behind his laptop screen, his hands immediately going to his sweater sleeves, rolling them to the elbow as though wanting to show off his lean, athletic forearms. Leorio stifled a laugh at that, which prompted a questioning, slightly annoyed look from Kurapika. He only made a signal for his boss to turn around and watch by way of answering. 

“Are you going home soon, Killua?” Leorio heard his cousin ask, his voice taking on a slightly soft, tremulous tone, almost like he was nervous. Gon had taken a seat on an empty chair beside Killua, leaning his elbow on the table. “See, Leorio isn’t finished working yet, and I already came all the way here. That was my fault, actually, I didn’t let him know I was coming here until after I arrived.” He grinned, a little sheepishly. “So… I was wondering, would it be possible if I catch a ride home with you? Please?” 

Gon was even batting his eyelashes at Killua, Leorio noticed. _Oh, Killua, darling, there is absolutely no hope for you, is there?_

Killua was already nodding before Gon even finished his sentence. “Of course. We can arrange that,” he said. “You ready to go now?”

“Yes!” Gon smiled excitedly. “Let’s go! Oh, wait, hold on— Killua, have you eaten yet?”

“Hm? Not yet. Why?”

Gon actually lit up like the Empire State Building, his golden-brown eyes sparkling. “I have leftover pizza from last night’s dinner. We can eat together, if you want, at my place. What do you think?”

Leorio watched Gon wait expectantly for Killua’s answer, a shy smile fixed upon his lips, his eyes glancing at Killua’s for a second and then bounced back towards his lap. He was fiddling with the buttons of his forest-green bomber jacket, twirling them one way then another, round and round and round.

Leorio had never seen Gon fidget before. The boy had a lot of excess energy, that was true, but he was so very rarely nervous. It was a while before Leorio connected the dots, and it was like a light switch had been popped open inside his mind.

_Oh._

_Oh, boy, these kids have got it bad._

_And I didn’t even know my baby cousin is such a smooth guy,_ Leorio thought. He couldn’t even hide his snort anymore. He caught Kurapika’s eyes just then, and from the blond’s mirthful expression, he’d heard Gon’s proposal too. Soon the both of them were shaking with suppressed laughter, avoiding each other’s eyes lest they broke into howls. 

When Leorio could watch again without his resolve not to laugh threatening to break at any moment, he saw Killua playing with his hair, seemingly absent-mindedly, although Leorio could swear his movements actually made those silver strands fluffier. The boy’s cheeks were tinted pink. “Um— sure, Gon. Pizza sounds good,” he said. “Do you have any games too, at your house?”

“I do! I just started playing this really cool game on PS4, which can be played by up to four players. If you want, we can play together after dinner!”

“That sounds amazing. I’d love to.” Killua smiled, and it was like all traces of his rudeness and arrogance were gone, replaced by a soft tenderness tinged with awe. He was looking at Gon like he was a blind man seeing the world’s most beautiful sights for the first time, like Gon was the first bright light, the first magnificent spot of color that touched his colorless memory. Gon, in turn, was also looking at Killua with a big smile on his face, shining with such adoration and trust, it was like he was sure that Killua held all the answers to all the questions in the universe. Gon was always a happy boy, but at that moment with Killua, he looked almost transcendent with happiness.

Leorio suddenly didn’t want to laugh anymore. He was seized by the realization that this, whatever this thing he was watching unfold between Gon and Killua was, in all likelihood, more than just some silly, typical puppy love of the young. He felt oddly touched by the sight. He didn’t even stop to contemplate whether or not Killua was good enough to deserve Gon, because of course he was, when he could make his cousin smile like _that_ with just a few short words. To question it any longer would be pointless.

He watched Gon and Killua walk towards the exit door after waving goodbye to him and Kurapika, the two boys beaming at each other like each was the center of the other’s world. Leorio waved back, and proceeded to sigh with contentment.

“I’m telling you, Kurapika, sooner or later, I’m gonna be part of the Zoldyck family through marriage,” he said. "I'd better start thinking of all the delicious money that's gonna come my way."

“Good Lord, Leorio, they are still in _college._ ”

“Gon’s father married young. So were my parents.”

“And yet look at you, still unmarried even while pushing thirty,” Kurapika laughed. “Your argument is irrelevant.”

“You’re hardly one to talk, Kurapika. You’re only two years younger than me.” Leorio pouted. “Speaking of which, I’m actually curious. I’m sorry if I assumed wrong, but you look like you came from a well-to-do family, and most of my rich friends were usually pushed by their families to marry young. But I have never heard you talk of even a boyfriend.”

Kurapika rolled his eyes. “That’s because I don’t _have_ one. And my family didn’t really care about marriage. They are more concerned about— about me joining the family business, and eventually taking over.”

“So you’re single? I find that a little hard to believe.” Leorio whistled. “What family business?”

“I’ll tell you about it some other day. Tonight, we need to _work,_ ” Kurapika answered tersely. “And why do you find it hard to believe that I’m single?”

Leorio didn’t understand why somehow he found that he couldn’t stop smiling. “Oh, no reason. Let’s go back to work.”

They sat nursing a heavy silence for a few minutes before Kurapika suddenly broke it with a question. “And you?” he asked without catching Leorio’s eyes, his tone deliberately kept neutral.

Leorio looked up with a furrowed eyebrow. “And I what?”

“Are you single, too?”

A sort of heat bloomed behind Leorio’s chest, spurring his heart to beat faster in a skipped, fluttering motion. His face muscles automatically pulled into a smile. “I am,” he answered. “Why? What are you gonna do with that information?”

“Oh, nothing, of course. It’s just a question.” Kurapika shrugged, even though an adorable reddish shade started to bloom along his cheekbones. 

A few seconds passed before Leorio heard Kurapika mumble something that he could almost swear sounded like _for now, at least._

* * *

It was almost nine in the evening, and Leorio was about to walk to the bus stop across the office building when he heard Kurapika calling his name.

"Leorio, wait! You're not driving your car?"

He turned around and walked back towards Kurapika, who was already standing beside his silver Porsche 911. "No, I'm taking the bus home. I didn't drive here today. I woke up a little late and so I hailed an online motorbike, so I could slip through traffic."

"Oh. So that's why you told Gon to go home with Killua."

"Yeah." Leorio laughed. "But also because I wanted to be the brat's wingman."

Kurapika smiled. "I figured as much. Anyway, it's getting late. The bus can get crowded and even unsafe. I can give you a ride home, if you want."

Leorio needed almost a full minute to process Kurapika's words.

"You're offering me a ride home?" he repeated for confirmation, glancing at Kurapika's shiny two-door convertible. "In that beautiful, beautiful ride of yours?"

"Yes." Kurapika nodded, laughing at Leorio's blatant enthusiasm towards his car. "Get in. I'm not going to offer twice. And please try not to drool all over the seat."

Leorio opened the passenger door, still with a dumbfounded expression, like he was touching a dream. He almost groaned in amazement once he got into the plush leather seat, gawking at the luxurious feel of the black-and-gray interior of the car. At the high-resolution displays, the touch sensitive buttons. At the smooth wheel bearing the Porsche logo, and at the soft purring the engine made when Kurapika started the ignition. "God, your car is beautiful, Kurapika," he said. "This has got to have a flat six-cylinder engine, at the very least."

"I know nothing about car engines," Kurapika replied, sounding almost ashamed, as he backed out of the parking spot with a graceful motion of his arms. "My dad actually chose this car for me. So I can't tell you anything about the specs and stuff."

"Ha! I found your weakness, boss." Leorio let out a light chuckle. "My great and mighty PM doesn't know automotive stuff even though he drives one of the best sports cars of the year, if not the decade. I am so happy you turned out to be human, after all. Ouch!" Leorio yelped as Kurapika punched him in the thigh. "It's true, though, you don't need to be embarrassed about not knowing something." He rubbed the sore spot on his thigh, scowling at Kurapika. "Anyway, I didn't expect you to drive a stick."

"Why? Because I'm such a pampered, spoiled little rich kid?"

Leorio laughed. "Your words, not mine."

"I like manual transmission better because it feels like I have more control, somehow." Kurapika shrugged. "I get to decide which gear I want to go to, instead of just leaving it to the engine to figure out." He paused for a few seconds, then glanced at Leorio with a tight-lipped smile. "It's a silly thought, I know. Go on, Leorio, you can laugh."

"Again, it's not silly. Stop downplaying your personal preferences, Kurapika. They are valid, they are important, and they absolutely matter to me. I honestly like knowing these little trivias about you."

"You do?" Kurapika's question sounded disbelieving and doubtful, like he couldn't really accept that Leorio was telling the truth. Like the thought of someone actually enjoying getting to know him was an inconceivable idea, which Leorio absolutely couldn't understand because getting to know Kurapika had honestly been a delight. He could be brusque, dismissive, and sarcastic, yes, but he was also funny, and smart, and thoughtful. He was quiet most of the time, but he had a flair for saying the right things to the right people at the right time, not like Leorio, who was a talking, bumbling mess more often than not. He was also remarkably steady, always organized and in control of every situation, every meeting, every pushback from the higher-ups. Even when he didn't know something, he admitted it in a diplomatic, dignified manner, which was something Leorio would never be able to do. He was reliable and kind, was always ready to own up to his mistakes, and he had a beautiful laugh, one that seemed to reach into the darkest depths of his soul and fill it with hope and spice and everything nice.

He was slowly becoming someone that Leorio could truly respect.

"Of course I do, Kurapika," Leorio answered. "You can tell me anything and I won't ever judge you, I promise. Well, almost anything. If you suddenly confess to me that you're a serial killer, I'll probably need a few days to consider my next course of action."

Kurapika let out a soft laugh. "Bold of you to assume I would let you have those few days. You could have gone to the police, or you could kill me yourself, during those few days. Chances are, I would give you time to contemplate with me monitoring your every movement."

"Goodness, Kurapika, you sound like you've given this much thought."

Kurapika laughed out loud then. "I watch true crime documentaries on _Netflix_ sometimes. At night, just for the right mood."

"So do I!" Leorio joined in excitedly. "Although it usually leaves me much too tense to sleep afterwards so I have no choice but to click _Next Episode._ Then it's suddenly 3 AM and I have to get up in four hours."

"You have zero self control, Leorio. Why am I not surprised?" Kurapika shook his head in fond exasperation as he put the car into gear after stopping at a red light. "Now, are you going to tell me where you live or are you going to let me abduct and torture you?"

* * *

“You listen to _classical_ music while working? Just why? _Why_???”

Leorio stared incredulously at Kurapika and his mini Bluetooth speaker, sleek and shiny in its chrome-gray metal blanket, perched delicately on the edge of the round wooden table. It was a sunny Friday afternoon, and they were working in a secluded lounge room in the corner of the office’s third floor, the one which had a first-come-first-serve rule. It was cozy and pleasantly cool, the air conditioner blowing at just the right temperature instead of bone-freezingly cold the way it felt at their usual row of desks. Kurapika liked to arrive impossibly early in the morning just so he could call dibs at this particular room, triumphantly closing the door and hanging the _Occupied_ sign so no one would dare disturb his solitude. These days, Leorio found himself joining Kurapika there more and more often. He quite liked the privacy and the silence, to his surprise. It made his ‘brain juice’ flow more clearly and smoothly, making him look at his tasks with a sharper eye, detecting potential issues before they could happen. He also liked the way the room was decorated, with colorful bean bags surrounding a spacious, dark blue sofa, plush rolling chairs, and a big round table in the middle. Kurapika was also surprisingly easy to get along with when they were each working on their own thing, leaving little room for petty disagreements. 

Except for his taste in music.

They usually listened to whatever they wanted using their own headphones, but Leorio had forgotten to bring his today. Kurapika had the Bluetooth speaker stashed around his desk somewhere, Leorio didn’t have any idea what for, but he’d been considerate enough to let Leorio use it for the both of them, _if_ he let Kurapika choose the playlist. Leorio had said okay, because how bad could it be? He was a flexible guy, he could handle almost all genres of music.

But then the chosen playlist was called _Chopin Piano._

_Chopin fucking Piano._

To be played on speaker, in a comfortable room with lots of soft chairs and sofas and even _pillows,_ at two-fifteen in the afternoon.

Leorio’s eyes wouldn’t stay open for long.

“What’s wrong with classical? It’s been proven to increase concentration and memory, Leorio. It’s the perfect genre for working,” Kurapika said matter-of-factly, seemingly confused by Leorio’s apparent antipathy. “Listening to, or playing, some classical music is what I usually do to process things.”

“It makes me want to take a nap right this minute, that’s what’s wrong with it.” Leorio quickly reached out and grabbed the speaker, turning it off instantly. “You can’t be trusted with aux duty, Kurapika. Now this little guy is mine.”

“No!!” Kurapika launched out of his chair, making a move to grab the speaker back, but Leorio blocked him. “Nuh-uh. Too late, it’s already connected to my laptop now. Sit tight and enjoy _my_ playlist, Princess.”

“Stop calling me princess, you goon, I’m not a girl!! And if you play your horrendous songs here on speaker, I will storm out and take my chances somewhere else.”

“A boy can be a princess, too, Kurapika, don’t be sexist. And go on, storm out, be my guest. Where would you go that’s more comfortable than here? Back to your desk where Knuckle screams or laughs every ten minutes? I don’t think so.” Leorio laughed out loud at Kurapika’s horrified face. “Besides, you’ve never heard what I like to hear, haven’t you? Just give it a try. Maybe you’ll even like it.”

Leorio took Kurapika’s quiet huff as assent, however begrudgingly, and he smiled wider as he pressed play on his _Current Favorite_ playlist.

_Why do you build me up, buttercup, baby_

_Just to let me down and mess me around?_

_And then worst of all, you never call, baby, when you say you will_

_But I love you still_

Leorio saw Kurapika’s lips twitch, as though he was hiding a smile. He started to sing along to the song, just to get more reactions out of the blond, “ _So build me up, buttercup, don’t break my heart…_ Catchy, huh? What do you think?”

Kurapika was giggling for real now, eyes and nose scrunching cutely, delicately, almost elegantly. “Dear God, Leorio,” he snickered. “You literally are an old man.”

“Don’t diss old songs like that, Kurapika. In my opinion, they are way, way better than these days’ top forties.”

“I’m not dissing them. I’m just thinking— “ Kurapika paused to let out a laugh again. “I’m just thinking that for some people, ‘old songs’ typically refers to late nineties’ boy bands or something. But that’s not the case with you. You really say ‘old songs’ and actually mean 1960s old.”

Leorio bristled. “Best decade of pop music, I’d say. I mean— Marvin Gaye? The Beach Boys? Simon & Garfunkel? Elvis fucking Presley? Simply sublime, let me tell you. Sub-lime. And no, I’m not taking any criticism on this.”

Kurapika was still giggling. “I get it, I get it,” he said between breaths, raising a placating hand. “And no, I’m not giving any criticism either.”

“No?” Leorio raised his eyebrows, still not very used to the sight of Kurapika agreeing with him. He recovered quickly, though, emboldened by the prospects of shoving his music taste to the uninitiated. “Well, if that’s the case… It’s also the perfect genre to keep your spirits up during tedious work hours. Watch.” And he started to dance in his seat, wiggling his arms and his shoulders in time to the music, pointing his fingers in the shape of a gun towards Kurapika, prompting an all-out laugh from the blond now. Leorio knew he was being silly, but he didn’t care. Being silly with Kurapika turned out to be really fun, and… surprisingly easy, like they’d done this a thousand times before, like he didn’t even need to think about it. Like he was a little stream being carried towards the ocean, flowing effortlessly and surely towards a destination he had always recognized in his soul.

“ _To you I'm a toy, but I could be the boy you adore, if you’d just let me know…_ Oh, what the hell, you know what? Let’s dance properly.”

Kurapika watched in amazement as Leorio got up from his chair and started dancing in earnest, doing disco moves which had been popular during the same decade the currently playing song had been launched in. He moved his elbows back-and-forth, in towards his waist then out and back again. “Stretching time, Pika. Come on, get up. Dance with me.”

Leorio pulled Kurapika out of his chair. Despite the blond's excessive protests, they started to dance to the song, Kurapika with confusedly widened eyes and Leorio with a giddiness he hadn’t felt in ages and a warm _something_ inside his chest that he didn’t want to think about, not yet, not right now, lest he became a flustered, bumbling, barely functioning mess about to curl up on the floor and not face the world for another hundred years or so. It was a spontaneous, childish, almost idiotic act, something he’d never thought Kurapika would ever be caught dead doing, but something had prompted his boss to take his proffered hand and his crazy offer to dance in the middle of a work day and now here he was, twirling and laughing gracefully almost in his arms, and Leorio had a sudden, irrational longing to hear that laugh for the rest of his life. 

“You’re a terrible dancer, Leorio.”

“I know. You’re a passably good one, though. Is there _anything_ you cannot do? Other than knowing car specs, that is.”

Kurapika snorted. “I’m more than just _passably_ good, and you know it. I learned ballet for a few years when I was a kid.”

“Oookay, Princess. You just get fancier and fancier the more I know you.”

Kurapika punched him lightly on the arm. “Again, no calling me Princess, or I’m reporting you to HR for unpleasant behavior.”

Leorio laughed. “But calling you Pika is okay? Because I don’t recall you complaining about that one.”

“Well, knowing you, I figured you’re just too lazy to call me by my full name.”

“Ha! Damn right.”

All of a sudden, Leorio noticed that Kurapika’s big, twinkling eyes were so much closer than they were before. No one knew which one of them had taken a closer step. All Leorio knew was that he was suddenly looking into a pair of vast gray seas, their glassy surface seemingly punctuated by starlights, and he was a man both lost and found, the waves both drowning and welcoming him home.

He almost didn’t hear what Kurapika whispered next. 

“I like it, actually,” he heard him say, in a voice that was soft and uncertain, almost like he was testing how the words would feel rolling off his tongue and merging into the space between them. “So, there you go. You have my permission to keep using it. It’s a nickname solely saved for my closest friends.”

 _Of course, we’re friends now,_ Leorio thought, although he didn’t understand why something in him seemed to sigh in dissatisfaction.

"Oh, by the way, Leorio?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget to talk to Killua today about that analysis we want him to do."

Leorio sighed. "Alright. Your wish is my command, my lord."

* * *

“Killua, I have a task for you.”

Leorio threw himself down on an empty rolling chair beside Killua. The boy was completely immersed in his own world, a Python notebook dominating the screen of his laptop, full of neat, colorful graphs and texts. Lines and lines of code flowed out of his lithe fingers, without pausing, without even checking every few lines or so if they would even run correctly, and all while occasionally sucking on a bright red lollipop.

“What,” Killua answered without looking, his fingers still typing away at the keyboard.

Leorio stared at him. “Should I wait until you’re done coding?”

“Nope. I can listen to you just fine, old man. Talk.”

Leorio barely even blinked at this point. He was already getting used to Killua’s brusque manner as well as his amazing sets of skills, which apparently included being crazy good at multitasking. “So, the Caduceus engineers want to find out why our first batch of tests produced so many failures. We’re currently thinking it might have something to do with the testing accounts’ app versions, so could you maybe check on that and draw up an analysis?”

Killua stopped typing and pulled his lollipop out with a _pop._ “Why me?”

“All the other analysts are busy. We know you’re also busy with your own project, but given your— high expertise, we think you’ll be able to help us.”

But Killua just smirked. “I don’t think so. I’m not in the mood.”

Leorio sighed loudly. _Of course this kid is going to be difficult._ “Come on, you brat. Bisky already okay-ed this. She said it would be a good learning experience for you and she’s looking forward to seeing your contribution in this.”

“No-pe. Find me something more challenging and maybe then we can talk.”

“Goddammit— this is why Pika told me to do anything to get you to agree,” Leorio muttered under his breath.

“ _Pika,_ huh? Didn’t know you two have gotten so close.” Killua gave Leorio his full attention now, smirking wider with a knowing glint in his eyes. “It’s not like me to have missed anything of this scale. Oh, wait, maybe I haven’t,” he added with a mock gasp. “The signs are clearly there from the start— “

“Alright, that’s enough. I give everyone nicknames all the time, especially when their names are too fucking long to pronounce. It’s no big deal,” Leorio said gruffly, although he swore he could feel his cheeks redden. The truth was, he and Kurapika _did_ seem not to argue quite as much recently… _Interesting._ “Killua, for the love of God, stop smirking!! Tell you what, if you agree to do that analysis, and if you manage to get it done in three days max, I’ll buy you some Snickers.”

Killua narrowed his eyes in interest. “How many bars are we talking about?”

“How many do you want? Ten? Fifteen?”

“Make it twenty and we have a deal.”

“Done.”

* * *

It was almost halfway past three o'clock, and Leorio was reading a long and confusing message thread about some data ingestion issues on the #caduceus-devs Slack channel when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. “Leorio, I’m sorry, but can we do our pairing session now? I might have to go home early today.” Melody’s voice came soothingly into his ears. “I have an orchestra rehearsal that has suddenly been moved up an hour ahead of schedule,” she added, looking slightly guilty.

“Oh, sure, Melody, but I have a meeting in half an hour,” Leorio answered. “Will you be okay with that?”

“Yeah, I think that’s fine. Which meeting is this, by the way? Is the rest of the team not invited?”

“Ah, no, I think it’ll only be me and Kurapika representing our pod. It’s a meeting with Morel, Mizai, and some other Tech and Ops guys. I was originally not invited either, but once Kurapika told me about it, I asked him if I could join, too. Figured he’s gonna need backup, ‘cause you know, Morel and Kurapika just don’t click.” Leorio laughed softly. “He might say or do things he’d regret when he’s backed into a corner, and that’s why I think he needs someone level-headed like me in the room, to keep that from happening. Took him a little long to agree, though.”

Melody smiled, an unfurling of both lips and knowledge. “I think it’s really lovely that you two have relied so much on each other. You really care about him, don’t you?”

“I really— what? What? Come on, Melody, that is— That— that is— that is just embarrassing. Stop saying that. But of course I care about him. He’s— my boss. And my friend.”

* * *

Leorio came out of the meeting room with the sensation that his head was being drilled from both sides. 

The board of directors had gotten wind of their project, and that meant increasingly nonsensical demands had also started to find their way to them. Morel and Mizai couldn’t really do anything to dissuade them, not even Cheadle, and so they had no choice but to install those demands onto their heightening pile of worries. Leorio felt like he had to say goodbye to his sanity soon.

He was just rounding a corner on his way to reach the elevators when he overheard two people talking. Two people whose voices he knew pretty well.

“I know this is high pressure for you, Kurapika.” Bisky’s stern, misleadingly youthful voice reached Leorio’s ears first. “But this is what the board wants. And what the board wants, it gets. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more I can do.”

“I know that, Bisky.” Kurapika sighed. “But this means we’re going to need more manpower to tackle all the workload. Pokkle and Linssen have been mostly exempted from this project because they are in charge of the current allocation model in the Singapore app, which is still quite new and prone to bugs. Now that we’re doing at least a 50% **rollout** in four weeks, I’m going to have to take them away from their current pipeline and have them help full-time with this. We can’t do this with just three engineers plus two from DS.”

“That’s okay. Have Pokkle and Linssen drop everything and redirect their bandwidth here. Will you need to fly to Singapore to meet them? Along with your other engineers?”

Kurapika hummed. “That might be necessary for optimal collaboration.”

“Alright. Just email HR and ask them to arrange a business trip for— a week? Two?”

“I think a week’s sufficient for the first round of **A/B testing.** For the rollout, though, we might need to fly Pokkle and Linssen here instead.”

“We’ll worry about that later. Just send the email and put me on the cc so I can approve your request. And please ask your engineers to do the same. Oh, and Killua should join, too, if he wants. I know he’s not really your dedicated analyst, but it’ll be a good experience for him to meet everyone from the SG office and learn from them.”

“Right. Roger that.”

“Great. You’re flying there this coming Monday, and it’s already 5 PM on a Friday, so if you’re afraid an email will take too long of a response, go to the sixth floor and find Hisoka in person so he can make all the necessary arrangements. He usually stays late. Oh, and, Kurapika? Make sure you attend the User Committee Meeting in person at the SG Office,” Bisky said. “This new update will come as quite a shock to the higher-ups, albeit an exciting one, so make sure you’re ready to answer all possible questions to put their minds at ease. Don’t embarrass yourself like you did last time— I think six weeks ago? When we first proposed the idea of this project?” She sighed. “I’m not saying it’s not okay to _not_ know something, because we’re all human, but please try to have the answer ready for every possible scenario, okay? We need to make them all believe in our credibility, that we can do a project of this scale smoothly and seamlessly. Do you understand?”

"I understand, Bisky. I won't let you down." Kurapika's voice was determined, but there was a slight catch in it that made Leorio suddenly want to reach out to him.

“I know you won’t. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” Leorio heard Bisky’s voice getting fainter, followed by the sound of receding footsteps in high-heeled shoes.

When Leorio stepped into the corridor, Kurapika was still standing there, back straight as an arrow, but the knuckles gripping the edge of his laptop lid were whiter than the rest of his hand. He was clutching a _Starbucks_ tumbler, its doff black surface seemingly leached of all color, out of which he was taking big gulps of what Leorio was sure had at least double shot of espresso and a week’s worth of impending anxiety. Taking wide steps forward, Leorio decided to step in and take matters into his own hand.

He stopped just behind Kurapika’s back and snatched the coffee tumbler deftly. “You can’t drown your problems in coffee, Kurapika. How many cups have you had today? Four? Five?”

“I can, and I will,” Kurapika hissed. “Watch me.”

“I am definitely not going to watch. I will stop you from developing cardiovascular diseases before you’re even thirty if that’s the last thing I do. No more coffee for today.”

Kurapika arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Doctor’s orders?”

Leorio blinked. “I see you’ve been talking to Gon. In any case, yes. Doctor’s orders.”

To his surprise, Kurapika relented. “Fine.” He blew out a heavy breath and leaned on a wall, closing his eyes. “Do what you will with my coffee. After that, call Basho and Melody for an impromptu meeting. Immediately.” He straightened off the wall, and when he opened his eyes, they were clear and sharpened to a point, no doubt already reworking their entire product roadmap inside his mind. Then he pulled out his smartphone and quickly began typing out an email.

“I’m sure you’ve probably heard my conversation with Bisky earlier, Leorio,” he said. “But just in case you haven’t, I’m telling you again right now: we’re going to pay a visit to our friends Pokkle and Linssen in SG. We fly on Monday morning.”

* * *

_Someone is playing the piano._

Leorio glanced around the deserted smoking area and the surrounding parking lot, also littered with too many empty spaces. A crescent moon shone from the midst of heavy clouds above, its light dull and half-hearted. Combined with the faint, melancholy sounds of the piano, it seemed to give the compressed air around Leorio a mournful, almost mystical feeling, like he’d just stepped into a dark, alien world. 

He pressed his cigarette into an ashtray, extinguishing the flame. Kurapika’s car was still parked in its usual spot, on the north side of the lot beside a gray concrete pillar. He’d left his boss sulking alone inside a private working booth on the sixth-floor’s farthest corner after their impromptu meeting, the one where he’d told the entire team that the board of directors had demanded a fifty-percent rollout of their model, at the very least, to be delivered in exactly four more weeks. Not just a prototype, not just a **sandbox** -testing version, but the real thing. To be deployed in **production.**

Leorio blew out a breath. After the meeting, the rest of the day had been spent in a riotous whirl: reworking their original project timeline, delegating new tasks, and pestering HR to arrange their business trips, which included plane tickets and hotel rooms. It was now almost eight-thirty in the evening, and everything was finally settled. Leorio had come down with Melody and Basho earlier, accompanying them to the bus stop across the road just to take a walk and keep his mind off things for a little bit. He’d decided to catch some much-needed cigarette break afterwards, needing some time to just cool off. 

He hadn’t met anyone else during his walk downstairs, except some security officers. Most employees usually went home between six to eight PM, which made it weird that there was still someone up there who, instead of concentrating on working overtime so they could go home as soon as possible, was playing the piano.

Unless that someone was an overworked employee who had been pushed to their limits today and had decided to fuck everything and just find some other thing to do to cope. To _process things._

Leorio had a feeling just who that someone might be. 

The music got louder the second the elevator doors opened at the sixth floor. Leorio knew his office had a designated break room nestled somewhere on this floor, some sort of carpeted auditorium loaded with comfortable sofa booths which stored almost every leisurely thing imaginable, from karaoke machines to board games to a small upright piano. He proceeded to make his way in search of that room, the notes guiding him there like a spool of thread.

 _See? I was right,_ he thought as he arrived at the break room’s door, stealing a glimpse inside from a rectangular, translucent glass in the middle. 

Kurapika was the one playing, a straight-postured lone figure in the middle of the cavernous room. His back was to Leorio, but the top of his head and an angled part of his cheek were illuminated by the light from the partially open side window, painting him in different colors that Leorio couldn’t pick apart one by one. His hair was sticking in odd places, its blonde layers already looked a little too long, and Leorio’s hands suddenly itched to smooth it. 

The song was an expressive one, delicate and bold at the same time, and Leorio could see that Kurapika was pouring his heart out into every note and scale. Leorio knew next to nothing about symphonies and sonatas and whatnot, but even he had to admit that this song was beautiful, because it made him _feel._ It made him feel calm and sombre but also loud and intense as the notes sped up, wrenching his heart away with the raw emotion they seemed to exude and wistfully putting it back inside his ribcage stained with tears and unlived dreams. Leorio stood still as a statue, entranced by the music and making no move to open the door. 

He had never seen Kurapika this unguarded with his emotions. Even when they were arguing and Leorio knew that he’d just pushed his boss’ temper to the boiling point, Kurapika still fought very hard to appear calm and in control, preferring to throw his insults in a low, vipery hiss instead of yelling them until the whole floor heard like what Leorio usually did. Leorio hadn’t thought that Kurapika maybe just needed another outlet besides words in order for his emotions to take shape. He hadn’t realized that of course he’d break down someday, that the mountain of pressure those lean shoulders had to hold would soon burst into a flood of vulnerabilities and raw sentiments. 

He was so used to seeing Kurapika tackling everything with confidence and control, but now he was seeing him close to bursting apart at the seams. Probably without anyone else even noticing.

Even his wavering shadow on the floor was a black pool of unsteady defeat and loneliness.

When the song ended, he pushed the door open.

Kurapika turned around with a sharp intake of breath; his open, raw emotions seizing back up, retreating into his hard shell. “Leorio,” he gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, boss. Didn’t mean to startle you.” Leorio gingerly walked inside, and when Kurapika didn’t show any resistance, he took a seat on the edge of the piano bench and nudged Kurapika’s elbow lightly. Kurapika took it as a sign to scoot and he shifted to the left, making more room for Leorio to sit comfortably. 

A few seconds ticked away before Kurapika said: “I thought you’ve gone home already.”

“Nah, I was just catching a smoke outside.”

Kurapika wrinkled his nose. “That explains the smell.”

“Sorry, Princess.” Leorio chuckled lightly. “That song was beautiful, by the way. What is it called?”

Kurapika looked away and ran his right hand along the piano keys, pressing a few of them softly enough not to make a sound. “It’s the second movement to Beethoven’s Piano Sonata Number 8, _Opus_ 13,” he replied. “Also known as the Sonata _Pathétique._ ”

“ _Pathétique,_ ” Leorio repeated. “Does that word also mean ‘pathetic’?

Kurapika smiled. “No. It’s a French adjective meaning ‘emotionally moving’, or ‘passionate’. Something like that.”

“Huh. And here I thought you were playing that song because you were having a pity party for yourself.”

Leorio half-expected Kurapika to throw him some sarcastic quips or maybe an elbow to the stomach, but the blond stayed quiet. There was a melancholy air surrounding him, making the short inches between them feel charged with unsaid words. Kurapika’s fingers started moving again, playing a forlorn melody that Leorio wasn’t familiar with. Leorio let the silence go on for almost a full minute before he thought, _fuck it._

He caught Kurapika’s hand in his own, ceasing the one-handed music abruptly. “Pika, please stop,” he said. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

Kurapika was breathing hard by his side, looking at him with confusion. His hand inside Leorio’s felt so small and tense. “Pika,” he said again, wearing the nickname like a suit of armor. “Are you okay?”

He watched Kurapika blink once, twice. His eyes were dark and unsteady.

His answer came in a tight whisper. 

“I’m not,” Kurapika said. “I’m not. Leorio, I’m scared.”

Leorio felt Kurapika’s hand tremble a little, and he held on tighter without thinking. “Okay. What are you scared of?”

“I’m scared of— of disappointing everyone,” Kurapika answered. “Of not being good enough to see this project to fruition. I’m scared of messing everything up when we’ve already come this far. There’s so much— “ Kurapika’s voice broke, and he closed his eyes. “There’s so much stake riding in this that I’m scared that if I make one wrong move, everything will topple over like a house of cards.”

Leorio just stared at Kurapika, willing him to go on. Bisky’s voice earlier resounded again in his head. _Don’t embarrass yourself again like last time._

“Everyone just expects so much out of me, Leorio, and I’m scared I won’t be able to fulfill those expectations,” Kurapika continued. “Our performance tests so far haven’t even been good enough for a production deployment. How am I supposed to face the higher-ups next Monday with that kind of an update, all while having to promise them that we’ll start doing rollouts four weeks from now?” He laughed bitterly, hopelessly. “You wanna know why the board is getting involved in this? It’s because our company’s NSM is riding hard on this one project. They are expecting our model to significantly bring down user cancellations so we can pocket more completed consultations and therefore raising our profit and inviting more investors, paving the road for a smooth **IPO** a few years from now. There’s just— _so_ much pressure.” Kurapika exhaled a loud breath which almost sounded like a sob. “Leorio, I don’t think I’m cut out for this. Do you think I should resign? And then maybe someone else who’s more capable can take over.”

“Alright, Pika, you’re starting to talk nonsense,” Leorio interjected. “You are not going to mess this up, okay? And you are definitely _not_ resigning. You’re not a quitter. We’ve only gotten closer in just— I don’t know, a few weeks, I guess— but I already know that you’re so, so much more capable than you realize.”

"How do you know?" Kurapika almost whined. He looked so stressed and exhausted Leorio was afraid he was going to start crying. "For all I know, I may be a loser who's been fooling you all into thinking I'm the slightest bit capable of leading human beings and launching ML projects from scratch."

"Goddammit, Kurapika, are you even listening to yourself?” Leorio groaned. “Do you think we're that big of a fool, for you to be able to fool us like that? You've been our PM for almost a year. During that time, we've launched tools and models that had actually made our app better and gained us some recognition. You've been praised all over, even by the C-levels. Do you think you managed to fool them, too?" He shook his head in exasperation. "If you can actually believe that you're that good of a con man for being able to fool not just your engineers, but also Cheadle, and Mizai, and Morel, all of them the smartest people I’ve ever known, then I think you can also believe that you are actually capable of doing great shit here on your own damn abilities."

Kurapika was quiet for a while, then he grumbled, “That— somehow makes sense.”

“Of course it fucking does!”

A small smile lit up Kurapika’s face, just a little bit. “No need to curse,” he said sullenly. “But, Leorio, this model— being what it is currently, it’s not going to be perfect, is it? We still haven’t managed to find an answer why our most recent testing failed. And according to our latest calculation, its performance isn’t even as good as our current allocation model. We might have to relook at our features and then we’re back to square one. I still— I still don’t think I can do this.” Kurapika half-sobbed, half-screamed. “If it’s not going to be good, if it’s not going to be perfect, then what is even the point of us doing this? I’ll just disappoint everyone and myself.”

Leorio sighed. “Why are you so fixated on being perfect all the time? It’s stupid, Kurapika, because nothing is ever going to be perfect,” he said. “Stuff happens all the damn time, stuff outside any of our control. It’s no use beating yourself up over it.”

“But I’ve lived my whole life chasing perfection, Leorio!” Kurapika snapped. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then blew it out in an audible _whoosh._ “I’ve lived my whole life chasing perfection. If I can’t do something correctly, then I’ll be better off not doing it at all instead of risking people’s disapproval. If I can’t do something correctly, perfectly, then what am I even doing here?“ He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes. “Who the hell even am I?”

Leorio watched Kurapika try to compose himself, inhaling and exhaling breaths in a measured manner, leaning his head back and blinking his eyes rapidly to stave off any tears that threatened to fall. He continued staring at him, at this strong, smart, capable man who somehow couldn’t see his worth when people so much as hear of himself failing. Who would do _anything_ to make sure people didn’t see him other than perfect, at the cost of himself and his own sense of self. 

Suddenly everything that Kurapika did these past few days became clearer to Leorio. All the excessive hours of his days that he threw into his work, all the lunches he missed, all the meetings he kept responding _Yes_ to when his calendar had already been full from top to bottom, all those mugs and mugs of coffee. All the little details he kept insisting to get right, all the documents he edited with not so much as a dot out of place.

He didn’t do any of that because he was ambitious, or arrogant, or just a perfectionist jerk.

He did all that because he was scared.

Because he was scared of facing himself when that shining reputation of his faded. 

Because he didn’t think he was worthy of anything without his accomplishments in tow as offerings.

And it made Leorio sad. 

He didn’t really know why, but it just saddened him. It hurt him to think that Kurapika had spent all his life thinking he wasn’t worth anything unless he did things correctly, perfectly. Not love, not acceptance, not even the right to exist.

It hurt him so much it felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing him in the guts, because in the short time that they had gotten closer, he realized that Kurapika had very nearly become one of his favorite people. And that meant Kurapika was worth everything in the entire world, everything he could give him and more, and not just because he could give him something in return. It was just because Kurapika was _Kurapika._ Sarcastic, brilliant, funny, caffeine-addicted, fancy-ass Kurapika.

 _Oh no,_ Leorio thought. _Oh no. Is this what I think this is?_

Before he could pursue that line of thought, though, Leorio decided he needed to give Kurapika an answer first before he could have a full meltdown. 

“Kurapika, listen to me,” he began. “Even without people’s approval, you still have a right to be everything you want to be, and do everything you want to do. And you can do it as wrongly as you possibly can. You’re allowed to make mistakes, because you’re human. And humans are always constantly learning.

“Even when you disappoint people,” he continued. “It’s not the end of the world. You can try again. You can always try again. You can even take a different road, it’s up to you. What matters here is what _you_ want to do, whether you do it correctly or incorrectly, and what _you_ manage to get out of it. For example, say you want to draw something, and so you start drawing. You have fun while doing it, and you feel accomplished, but the end result is bad, like stick figures bad. You show it to people, and they make fun of you, and you even disappoint some of them, because they actually expect you to give them a Van Gogh-level painting. My question: does their disapproval take away the fact that you had fun while drawing?”

Kurapika thought for a while, then shook his head wordlessly. “Not really. But their disapproval might make me feel bad enough that I forget I had fun doing it.”

“That’s the thing. What you should strive to do, then, instead of trying your very hardest to draw perfectly at the cost of your sanity or your health, is to never forget that you had fun doing it. That it gives _you_ a sense of accomplishment, that it makes _you_ happy.” Leorio offered a small smile. “Think you can do that?” 

“I— I honestly don’t know.”

“That’s alright. Admitting you don’t know is already a step towards knowing. And I’ll help you,” Leorio said earnestly. “I’ll help remind you of what really matters when you become blinded by chasing perfection. I’ll remind you every day, so help me God, to put _yourself_ first and prioritize what _you_ want to do, what _you_ want to be, instead of what you want _other people_ to think about you, instead of what _other people_ expect you to do. It’s time to let go of other people’s North Star Metric, even our company’s, and focus on your own.” He gave the back of Kurapika’s hand a small pat, feeling a jolt in his own hand as he did so. “Kurapika, the North Star Metric you should always strive to fulfill is _yourself,_ first and foremost.”

Kurapika looked at him as he hummed in thought, gorgeous gray eyes shining with a light that hadn’t been there before. “But I don’t even know what my North Star Metric should be. Because I don’t even have one.”

“Then just create one.”

Kurapika laughed, stilted and off-key, but the sound of it still filled Leorio’s heart with relief. “You make it sound so disgustingly simple,” he said. “Will you tell me yours, then?”

Leorio blinked in confusion. “My North Star Metric?”

“Yes.” Kurapika nodded. “Or at least your reason for working here. And don’t say ‘money’, because that’s bullshit.”

Leorio started to tense. “How do you know that’s bullshit?”

“Because I just know.”

“What the hell kind of answer is _that_?”

“The kind that tells the truth. Because I just know. The same way you just know that I’m not a quitter.” Kurapika scoffed. “We haven’t been friends for very long, Leorio, but I know you must have some other purpose that’s not as shallow as money. It’s astoundingly clear how you care about our users and that you see them as real people that need help, that need easy healthcare access that can actually make a difference in their lives. It’s not about money.” Kurapika fixed him with a sharp, intruding stare that seemed to pierce right into Leorio’s deepest thoughts. “It’s never about money, is it?”

Leorio never expected Kurapika to confront him with this kind of question. All his life, he’d mostly been playing his cards right with safe choices that presented himself as a happy-go-lucky dude, someone with simple goals, like landing a high-paying job or going home with the most popular girl in college. He constructed that facade so he wouldn’t jinx his real, actual goals, so people wouldn’t laugh at him or belittle him, so people wouldn’t try to look deeper into him to find something that he wouldn’t be able to give.

Because he was mediocre. Because he usually had to work twice as hard for the same result that others got for a half-assed effort. 

And because he was afraid that if he shared his hopes and dreams with other people, they would tell him that it was impossible, and that he would start to believe them, too.

He and Kurapika weren’t that different, he realized.

Kurapika regularly destroyed himself so people could see him as _more_ of what he believed himself to be, while Leorio sometimes donned a shallow mask so that people could see him as _less_ than what he actually wanted to be. 

And all because they were afraid of what other people’s opinions would do to them.

And just like he had seen through Kurapika’s mask and already fixed his inherent, immeasurable worth just for being himself, Kurapika had also seen through his and decided that he was someone who cared about more than just the superficial things.

Somehow Leorio was seized by the irrational urge to weep.

And just like that, his mask broke into a thousand pieces.

“You know I was once a doctor, right?” Leorio began with a question, one which Kurapika answered with a nod. “I graduated from med school, did all the required training, got my practice license and everything. And then I applied for an internship at the General Hospital.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the onslaught of memories that he knew were coming. “Two years ago, when I was already an intern for almost a year, I had an emergency patient, coming in at two in the morning. It had been a long, crazy day, and we were all exhausted, and I hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours. This patient came with shortness of breath, and he said he’d collapsed a few times at home before coming to the hospital.”

He didn’t realize his hand was trembling until he felt Kurapika grip his hand tighter. 

“I did all the necessary tests,” Leorio continued. “I asked him all the right questions. He was lucid enough, and had no bad pains anywhere. He even told me he’d considered only doing a DocTalk consultation, but the app crashed multiple times and so he drove himself to the hospital. I responded in all the right ways, then I left to check his test results.”

He swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth as it all came back to him— the hospital corridors where everything smelled too clean, the test results in black ink that his tired eyes skimmed. “I didn’t see anything particularly concerning in his test results, so I just gave him basic care and checked him periodically until my shift ended. But then, twelve hours later, I was called back to the hospital by my very pissed supervisor. That patient just died.”

Leorio found himself taking comfort in the steadiness of Kurapika’s eyes.

“What happened, Leorio?”

“It turns out I’d failed to notice something important in his test results, something that should have gotten him intensive care straightaway.” Leorio almost choked at the end. “He died due to septic shock. So, you see, if I had read his test results more carefully, or if I’d just consulted my supervisor, he wouldn’t have died. And the worst thing was, if this patient had just been able to secure himself a DocTalk consultation, he would probably still be alive right now because then he wouldn’t have come to me. Or he would have come to me, but with a clearer idea about his condition that would have alerted me to get him the right treatment as soon as possible. That’s why— that’s why after that day, I left my internship at the hospital and decided to apply for a job at DocTalk. To make their app better, so I can save someone else from being killed by a lousy IRL doctor like me.” He laughed a self-deprecating laugh. “I became a doctor so I could save people’s lives. But if I’m going to be no good as a doctor, then I won’t become one. I won’t risk killing another person because of my shortcomings. And so, I decided that I’d become something else instead, something that can still save people’s lives but without being too close that the slightest mistake can ruin them.”

His lips curled into a lopsided smile. “That's why I became an engineer here.”

Leorio waited for Kurapika to say something, to spout some nonsense like _It wasn’t your fault, Leorio_ or _There was nothing you could have done,_ or worse, an empty _I’m sorry_ that tasted like a formality, but he didn’t do any of the sort. He just looked at Leorio with those bottomless eyes of his that seemed to see everything there was to know about Leorio’s past, present, and future. 

It was a question that Kurapika said to Leorio next. “So, Leorio. Your North Star Metric is saving people’s lives?”

“Um, yeah. I suppose.”

Leorio watched a smile unfold on Kurapika’s face, sincere and innocent. “That’s a good one,” he said. “I hope you’ll be able to achieve it, every single day, just like you’ve always done.”

Leorio was suddenly very conscious of the way his heart beat inside his chest, fast and offbeat. He managed to mumble something moderately coherent, something that sounded like _uh-uh-huh-duh._

He suddenly couldn’t look at Kurapika’s face for very long without feeling like he was going to combust.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kurapika was still smiling as he glanced at him first then at the watch on his wrist. His slim, strong, perfect wrist.

 _Oh, no,_ Leorio thought again. _Oh, shit._

"I think it's getting late, Leorio. You didn't drive your car again today, did you?" Kurapika stood up, then smiled down at him, tugging their still-joined hands gently before letting go, only to put his hand on Leorio's shoulder instead. "Come on, let's go. I'll take you home. Gon must be getting worried."

For what felt like a long moment, Leorio just sat there, with the spot on his shoulder where Kurapika had touched growing warmer. The warmth spread into his entire body then, lighting up all his cells and making almost all his internal organs contract and tighten and sigh in realization.

When it reached his brain, it was accompanied by an array of curses that would have made his grandmother wash his mouth with a whole bottle of dish soap.

_Oh, fuck._

_Oh, shit._

_Oh, the shittiest shit of all the shittiest shits, I'm in fucking trouble._

_I'm in fucking, fucking trouble._

_Because I'm in fucking love with my fucking boss._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little sidenote: If any of you guys are Indonesian, then chances are you'll know what street snack Killua is eating in that post lunch break scene lol.
> 
> Oh and if you want to hear the songs I featured in this chapter, you can go to [this](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5LcC4eEC6gAtbK9vJbY4zz?si=NTSNzxDNQ6KNSypLoavD_Q) playlist that I made, inspired by this fic. Build Me Up Buttercup is such a feel-good song I love it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and see you all in the next one!
> 
> **GLOSSARY**
> 
> **ML (Reminder)**
> 
> Abbreviation for Machine Learning: The study of computer algorithms that improve automatically through experience.
> 
> **Data Pre-processing**
> 
> 'Cleansing' and screening the data sets from out-of-range values, impossible combinations, or missing values, in order not to produce misleading results in later parts of the analysis.
> 
> **Feature Engineering**
> 
> The process of using domain knowledge to extract features from raw data via data mining techniques, in order to accurately represent the underlying structure of the data and create a suitable model.
> 
> **CI/CD**
> 
> The combined practices of continuous integration and either continuous delivery or continuous deployment. In ML, it usually involves testing and validating code and components, data sets and data schemas, and model quality.
> 
> **One on One**
> 
> A dedicated meeting, typically between an employee and their supervisor in order to talk about priorities, concerns, and professional development, as well as exchange feedbacks and ask for advice.
> 
> **Cross Validation**
> 
> A technique for evaluating ML models by training several ML models on subsets of the available input data and evaluating them on the complementary subset of the data.
> 
> **Ops**
> 
> Short form for Operational.
> 
> **Rollout**
> 
> Another term for deployment of a model, an app feature, etc. The percentage refers to the amount of end users affected.
> 
> **A/B Testing**
> 
> A way to compare two versions of a single variable, typically by testing a subject's response to variant A against variant B, and determining which of the two variants is more effective.
> 
> **Sandbox**
> 
> An isolated testing environment that enables users to run programs or execute files without affecting the application, system or platform on which they run. Typically used to try new programming codes.
> 
> **Production**
> 
> A term used mostly by developers to describe the setting where software and other products are actually put into operation for their intended uses by end users.
> 
> **IPO**
> 
> Initial public offering or stock market launch is a type of public offering in which shares of a company are sold to institutional investors and usually also retail investors. 


End file.
